Close the Door
by PurplePatchwork
Summary: *DISCONT.* There comes a time in the life of every girl where they'll have to pay a visit to the gynaecologist. Amelia Jones didn't expect that experience to involve developing feelings that far exceed your usual doctor-patient relationship for her gynaecologist, Anya Braginskaya. Meanwhile, her father has his own share of trouble after meeting a suave Frenchman in the supermarket.
1. Ch 1: Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon

Chapter 1: Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon

Amelia Jones was restlessly leafing through a magazine from about three weeks ago, not at all taking the time to read what it was about, haphazardly peering over the top every time a noise reached her ears. There were three other women present, two sisters (lovers? Mother and daughter?) and a middle-aged lady accompanied by a very sleepy husband. Their dimly-lit faces only read boredom; they had been here before. This was only a routine check-up. Most likely nothing to worry about. They would probably be having coffee and cake afterwards.

Amelia nervously squirmed about in her chair, unconsciously squeezing her thighs tightly together. She had never really liked going to the hospital. Well, technically this wasn't a hospital, but it still felt like one. Ugly greenish walls, posters about health care, a nurse typing away on her computer behind the counter. A clock ticking away the last few minutes of female dignity—after today, everything would be different.

 _Nonsense_ , she chastised herself, determined frown pulling down her brow. _Don't be a baby about this, Ames! Every woman goes to the gynaecologist at least once in her life. It's not a big deal!_

At least she knew this one was a woman herself. Amelia would die of shame if she had to spread her legs in front of a man. Feel his prying eyes upon her. Into her.

A shudder travelled down her spine, and the girl brought down the magazine (21 Ways to Improve Your Garden!) to protectively cover up her jeans-clad crotch. She never should have come here. It had all been her aunt's idea. "You're a woman now, Mellie," shortly after her twenty-first birthday. "You should at least get yourself checked. Just to make sure everything's working like it's supposed to." Exactly the birthday gift every girl dreamt of, especially coming from their auntie-dearest!

Of course, stubborn as she was, Amelia had refused to let the woman accompany her. She was named after Amelia Earhart, one of the bravest women to ever have existed. She wasn't going to let a measly visit to the gynaecologist frighten her! (Nor was she going to face the shame of her aunt finding out every little intimate detail about her, hence the prohibition of her being here to support her beloved niece.) No, she could do this!

"Amelia Jones?"

The blonde made a weird squawking noise of surprise, head snapping up to look at the nurse who had spoken her name, magazine all but crumbling in her grip. "Y-yes?" she asked softly, scraping her throat before trying again. "That's me."

The nurse nodded and gave a gentle smile, pointing her pen at the now opened door to her right. "You may go in now."

Oh. It was her turn. _Already_?

Putting the magazine aside and nervously rising from her chair, Amelia gripped her jacket tighter in her arms and swallowed, nodding. Her legs felt wooden as she forced them to bring her to that opened door, not yet revealing the office that lay beyond. None of the other patients spared her a single glance—she wouldn't be getting any support from them. They were strangers, and had nothing to do with her fate. Amelia was alone in this.

With beating heart she reached out, steadying her hand before placing it firmly against the flat of the door. The girl pushed the obstacle out of her way, quickly stepping in and closing it behind her in one single movement. Turned towards the door, Amelia swallowed a final time, breathed in, and put on a big smile before whirling around to face the doctor.

The first thing she noticed about the woman was her hair. It was unlike any colour she had ever seen. Ashen blonde with an almost pure silver hue, certain to light up in a moonlit lake, as if she had stepped straight out of a snowy fairy tale of some sorts. It was also very long; bound together in a ponytail on her back at the moment, but swiftly disappearing out of sight behind, making Amelia believe it could touch the ground. Amelia unconsciously reached back to her own knot, quickly put together to make herself look older, more experienced. The blonde had also considered putting on her old glasses, but one: she hadn't needed them in centuries, and two: certainly she would have made a fool of herself had anyone noticed the lenses were missing.

The woman was writing something down with elegant well-manicured hands, her good hand-hygiene somehow putting Amelia at ease for at least one moment. After all, a gynaecologist who didn't have dirty hands was a thousand times better than one who had their hands covered in grease and oil. (Not that she knew of any doctors who ever had their hands bathing in such substances.)

Amelia remained standing at the door, like a frightened little chickadee, playing with her jacket as she contemplated what to do. Speak up and disrupt the woman's concentration? Simply sit down and wait? Start singing an aria from _West Side Story_? Okay, maybe not that last one.

Finally, the writing stopped, and an expensive fountain pen was put down. The gynaecologist looked up with a friendly smile, sending another ripple of shock through Amelia's intestines. Those eyes—were they purple? They certainly looked that way, at least in this light! But no, when the woman averted her gaze for just a moment, they seemed just a strange kind of blue. Was it a mere play of shadows?

"Amelia Jones?" the other spoke, and Amelia could instantly pinpoint her slight accent as Slavic. Images of horror hospitals flashed before her inner eye, but she impatiently chased them away. Now wasn't the time for silly prejudice and stereotypes, now that this woman was going to have her hands up Amelia's…

"Y-yeah, that's me," the girl finally said, after realising the woman had been staring at her, waiting for a response, any reaction at all, one eyebrow quirked, yet that same smile still in place. Amelia forced herself to move forward, shyly shuffling towards the chair, draping her jacket over it and sitting down after the doctor had gestured for her to do so.

"I am Doctor Braginskaya," the woman casually informed her, reaching down and pulling out some new papers, which she placed carefully onto her desk. "I understand this is your first time here?" She read the papers—Amelia's papers, the quick survey she had had to fill in at the counter out front. _Female, twenty-one years old,_ and so on. While Amelia had originally considered the question of sex to be redundant, seeing as this was a gynaecologist, she supposed there must be good reasons to have it present on the form.

"It is," Amelia said with a shaky laugh, quickly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear to busy herself. Her blue eyes shot through the room (a vase of sunflowers by the window, pictures of family on the shelf behind the woman, and one single bed, the kind she'd only seen in the movies, where she would have to lie down upon and spread her legs wide).

Doctor Braginskaya nodded, looking back up. "Routine check-up, or are there any problems you would like to discuss? I remind you that anything you say will remain within these four walls; you are free to speak." Then, seeing how skittish the other represented herself, she leant over and added in a conspiratory tone, "I promise I won't bite."

Amelia barked out a laugh before she could stop herself, then slapped a hand over her mouth, pink rising to her freckled cheeks. The other had mirth in her gaze as she sat back, waiting for Amelia to speak up.

"Oh, yes. Just a check-up. My aunt thought it'd be for the best."

 _Stupid!_ Who talked about their older family members when going to the doctor's? She was no longer a child. In fact, she was an official adult everywhere in the world now.

Her gynaecologist seemed unfazed, however, nodding. "All right. I am going to ask you a few questions for your file, just so we don't have to ask them again every time you come here. I request you to answer them truthfully, as it will help us keep you a healthy woman." Even though she was simply saying the lines she had probably learnt by heart by now, the doctor seemed to truly care about Amelia's well-being.

And then there was that… _woman._ Not girl. "Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon" from that movie, _Pulp Fiction_ , began playing in her head, even though it was false. She already _was_ a woman, after all! Doctor Braginskaya had confirmed it just now.

Feeling slightly empowered, she nodded, placing her hands on her knees. "Okay. Hit me up."

The other smiled again, before once more grabbing her beloved fountain pen, and turning to the papers, switching over to Professional Mode. "When was your last menstruation?"

Amelia bit her lip, slightly leaning forward. "Um, about fifteen days ago."

"All right…and you have a constant cycle?" A fine eyebrow was quirked.

Amelia nodded, some more tension leaving her shoulders. These questions she could answer. Especially when asked in that tone, as if this really were just a routine exam (which it was, incidentally). "Yup, it's been pretty much the same amount of days since my sixteenth."

"Lucky," the doctor said in minor admiration. Something was scribbled down. "Are you on the Pill?"

A shake of the head this time. Negative.

"Have you ever had sexual contact with another person before?"

All right, scratch that. All nerves came flooding back full-force. Amelia looked down into her lap, where she was folding and unfolding her hands. "Um, nope."

A small pause, and for a moment she expected to be laughed at—really? In this day and age? A twenty-one-year-old virgin? Ridiculous!

None of that, however. All she got was a hum of contemplation, some shuffling of papers, and a mumbled "Then I can skip these next few questions. Now, I would like to ask you about your family's medical history."

Amelia blinked and looked back up, owlishly disbelieving. Dr. Braginskaya chuckled at seeing her perplexed expression. "Do not look so surprised, _devushka_. I am not here to judge women on their sexual activity, I am merely here to help."

Another blink, before finally, the rest of the tension flew away (for now). A lot more enthusiastically, the girl answered the questions about her family, if she ever had any trouble with her periods, and did some weighing and measuring (even though she did try to flatten her stomach while standing on the measuring scale). After all that, she had almost forgotten all about the main act of the day, even starting up a small conversation about her twin sister with the friendly woman (who had fully introduced herself as Anya Braginskaya, middle sister of three, but that was the most she was going to give away for now, lest they lose their professional relationship). She felt a lot more at ease than she ever could have hoped, free laughter genuine as she told a silly anecdote of how one time she had to go on a serious mission to get Maddie some chocolate at an hour where almost all stores were closed but the need to get some sugar into her system outweighed all reason.

And then she was handed a paper gown and directed towards a small dressing room in the back. "You can change now and then go lie down on the table, so I can start the physical exam," Anya informed her, finishing up the last of her notes.

Amelia looked down at the thin piece of paper, then followed the pointing finger towards the door. Right. She was going to have to lie there practically naked. And have another woman feel her up. Well, okay, not exactly, but still! She _was_ going to be touched down there, so that was basically the same.

"Um, can we do this another time?" Amelia squeaked, feeling herself become smaller when the other sent her a gentle yet stern look.

"It is not routine check-up unless I can check you," Doctor Braginskaya explained, "I promise it will not hurt. I simply do a quick examination of your breasts and pelvic area, nothing harmful, and then you are free to go. I understand it may be…creepy, especially since you are a virgin, but I promise that no woman has ever filed any complaints against me."

She told it like a joke, yet it made the little hairs in Amelia's neck stand on edge. No one ever filed complaints against her… _because she had ties with the mafia?!_

It was a silly thought, of course. Anya Braginskaya seemed far too sweet to be part of the Russian mafia. Yet, as soon as that intrusive thought wormed itself into the girl's mind, other thoughts began accompanying it, only adding fire to the nerves in her gut. She could clearly see the other turning into a witch the moment she showed herself at her most vulnerable, attacking with knives and scalpels, damaging her where it hurt most. Or worse, she'd call in three buff guys who'd rape her all at the same time, or she'd be zapped to another dimension where no one wore clothes, or Anya was really a succubus who only wanted to—!

"Miss Jones? Amelia?"

The blonde jerked back when a hand waved back and forth in front of her eyes. Anya no longer looked as stern as concerned, though a hint of scepticism was added to the mix. "I _promise_ it will not hurt. Plenty of other woman have undergone the exact same exam. Now please, go undress, I have other patients after you."

Amelia stared at her, heart beating in her throat, eyes wide with fear. No more Amelia the Brave for today.

The blonde suddenly jerked up, jacket clawed to her chest. "O-oh!" she said with a fake laugh. "I just feel…yeah, my periods have started! Sorry, can't go through with the exam!" At least that was one test she wouldn't have to fail.

The sceptical look intensified, and once more that purple hue became clearer in the doctor's gaze. "Right now?" she asked, obviously disbelieving.

Amelia nodded fervently, head bobbing up and down so fast she swore she could hear her neck protest. "Yup! Sorry, we'll have to do the physical exam some other time, gotta run!"

And without saying another word she whirled around and fled the office, only making a pit stop at the counter to grab her bills before forever fleeing the office. She never noticed how Anya Braginskaya stepped outside her office with a bewildered yet somehow slightly intrigued expression, curiously peering down the hallway with narrowed eyes, both annoyed and mildly impressed by Amelia's successful escape. Now that was something that didn't happen in her small office every day.

Outside, Amelia was already on the bus, knees pulled up to her chest as she tried to even out her breathing, silent screams smothered into her jacket.

Well then.

That was yet another place she could never return to, after that one McDonald's a few towns over and the entire state of Texas.

Too bad, actually. Since Anya had truly seemed like a nice woman. Too bad she had to have been an evil mafia witch as well.


	2. Ch 2: Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Chapter 2: Girls Just Want to Have Fun

The bus stopped at a rather quiet corner and let a single girl escape its stuffy confines. She walked three blocks until she reached her house, big and furious steps leading up the stone path and further to the front door. The girl grumbled as a key was retrieved from one of her pockets, and shoved into the keyhole after scraping along it three times, turning with a satisfying and resounding click.

Amelia Jones burst inside, the door slamming shut behind her before she stormed up the stairs, biting away angry tears that were more rage than actual sadness; perhaps a hint of self-pity. A door opened to her right and she increased her pace, ignoring the soft voice calling out to her until she was safely inside her bedroom, door slammed shut again, and leaning against it with thumping heart and angry growls and hisses.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Amelia furiously spat at herself, slipping to the ground where she could hug her knees tightly to her bosom, cursing herself for not thinking things through. Oh yes, she had successfully escaped the evil gynaecologist! And what now, huh?! What if she suddenly got, like, vagina cancer? She'd have to go back there! Only now, they would know her by name and face, and it would be a thousand times more embarrassing than it ever could have been had she just gone through with it the first time. Amelia angrily unknotted her hair and threw the band across the room, where it disappeared beneath her closet, making her curse even louder.

A soft knock interrupted her despair. "Ames? Is everything all right?" came the muffled voice of Maddie, dearest Madeline, her twin sister, her beloved other half. "How did it go?"

"It went FINE!" Amelia shouted back, indicating with every syllable that things were in fact, not fine at all. The complete opposite of fine. Un-fine? Anti-fine? Because that was how she felt.

"Can I come in?" Maddie asked hesitantly. Amelia sighed and shuffled aside so the door could be opened. She couldn't possible let out her anger on Maddie. That just wouldn't be right.

The door did indeed open, a face poking inside. While they shared great resemblances (the soft layer of freckles covering their faces, the shape of their hands, fine nose above a much wider mouth), there were many more differences. It lay in the colour of their hair, eyes and skin (Amelia's much more tanned than Maddie's), it lay in their voice, their temperament, their thought processes. While Amelia loved being surrounded by dozens of friends all paying attention to _her_ , as she made them laugh and smile, Madeline was the prime example of the infamous Introvert. Where Amelia was always the first to speak her mind, Maddie took the time to think, and knew when to keep her thoughts to herself. Still, they loved each other through thick and thin, supported one another, and shared many interests.

Maddie knew exactly how to handle her sister when she was upset, for example. Instead of rolling her eyes and calling her a baby or chastising her for being so stupid, she simply sat down next to her, patiently waiting for Amelia to turn her gaze towards the other.

"You wanna talk about it?" Maddie asked with a soft smile, at which Amelia wildly shook her head and looked away once more. Maddie continued to smile, nudging their shoulders together, waiting for Amelia to sigh in frustration and lean against her sister, knees still held in her arms.

"I chickened out," Amelia said sourly, something she'd only ever admit to Madeline. It was no easy task admitting to being a coward for someone who took pride in their courage, after all.

Maddie slung an arm around the other, giving gentle pats and rubs as Amelia puckered her lips into a surly pout, the gentler of the two crooning and humming at her. "The first time can be scary."

"I wasn't scared! I just…wasn't ready." Yes, that was exactly it. She simply hadn't been ready to spread her legs in front of a total stranger. Maybe in a few years, like, ten, twenty, five-hundred…but not now, not yet. She had only just become an adult; why should she worry about things like that right now?

"It's okay, Ames. I'm sure dad'll be happy that you won't have any horror stories to tell over dinner now."

Amelia giggled, giving the other a light and playful shove. "Ew, as if I'd tell him anything about that! Gross, Mads!"

"Remember when he tried to tell us about the Birds and the Bees?" Maddie snorted, increasing Amelia's mirthful giggling and spluttering.

"Oh God, that was soooo embarrassing! _We were sixteen_!"

"I know!" Maddie laughed, her tittering high and melodious next to Amelia's boisterous and unabashed wheezing. "And his _face_! I've never seen him grow that red before!"

"Priceless!" Amelia gasped, slowly slipping to the side as her hands were busy clutching her stomach, already feeling it ache with the constant waves of laughter rippling through her. This was exactly what she needed. Her twin sister always knew just the right recipe to cheer her up. Everything was going to be okay.

~o~

Arthur Kirkland tiredly pushed his cart through the narrow aisles, rubbing his eyes as he tried to decide whether he'd get the more tasty brand or save expenses and buy the cheaper, non-branded variant of some item on his list. He wasn't the best cook out there, but as a single father of two he'd learnt to manage.

Taking a step away from the cart to grab a box of spaghetti, his shoe made a squelching noise as it was pulled free from the sticky linoleum. The sound sent goose bumps of mild disgust over Arthur's skin. Someone had probably spilled pasta sauce or lemonade on the tiles beneath him, and he didn't much care for transporting it out of the store using his worn-out sneakers.

He wanted to make something special tonight, seeing as the girls were home for summer, and, well, Amelia had been put through that whole…ordeal. It made him shuffle about uncomfortably just thinking about it, but that was simply part of being a father. Your daughters grew up to become women, whether you wanted them to or not. And that included visits to the…the doctor specialising in lady business. Ladies, no longer girls.

Arthur was happy to have such a big family—lots of brothers, aunts and uncles, and plenty of cousins—that could help with questions he didn't have that good of an answer to. Of course, if Amelia or Madeline needed help, he was always there to listen, but that didn't mean he was a walking encyclopaedia, or even that he was good at discussing such things. But they got by. Oh, they got by.

Arthur had made to grab a box of cheaper pasta, but changed his mind last-minute. After all, if he was going to make a special meal, Amelia deserved only the best. Still reaching out, he abruptly changed directions, which caused him to accidentally slam his hand into a rather torn-up looking box (someone must've opened it to look inside and put it back after). Result: the box fell over, and spilled its contents all over the floor.

"Oh, fuck off!" Arthur growled, frowning at the thin uncooked noodles as if they had personally offended him. Grumbling, he pushed the cart out of the way and carefully squatted down, not wanting to be That Customer and simply leave everything to the unfortunate underpaid staff having to deal with all kinds of daily annoyances.

As he set to picking up the wide-spread spaghetti and putting them back into the box (he'd drop it off at the cash register, certain they would have a garbage bin somewhere), a foreign pair of shoes appeared into his peripheral sphere, new and shiny. His movements slowed as a fair man knelt down beside him, blond hair bound together in a ponytail, soft blue eyes above a mild smile reading sympathy to his accident. Wordlessly, the stranger began picking up separate noodle sticks and helping Arthur refill the box.

Looking back down, the father of two scraped his throat. "You don't have to do that—I spilled this onto the floor, it's none of your concern."

"You simply looked like you could use a hand," the other chuckled softly, hint of an accent helping Arthur place the man as a native French speaker. Not Canadian though, probably born in France or to a French household, learning English only as his second language.

"Do I really seem that pathetic?" Arthur laughed, frowning as he thought his words over; he didn't mean to sound that self-deprecating or pitiful. Everyone could have accidents like these, and it didn't have anything to do with one's age or occasionally aching back or the fact that they were a widower with daughters who seemed to outgrow him with each passing day.

" _Non_ , that is not what I meant," his companion replied simply, not seeming to think him pitiful in any way. "You look like someone who could use a hand, that's all."

Arthur opened his mouth to tell the other he didn't need help, when in reality, the extra hand was very much appreciated. In the end, he decided against telling the man off, closed his mouth once more and opted for a quick nod instead. In no time, all pieces of pasta were picked up, and the two could rise to meet eyes, Arthur noticing they were about the same height.

He coughed into his hand and gave another nod, suddenly not really knowing where to look—did the Frenchman _have_ to give him such an imploring and noticeable once-over? "Thank you," he strangled out, hoping his new acquaintance wouldn't questions the pads in his cart, or the cookbook, when really, he had to look old enough to have grandchildren for decades now (according to himself, at least).

"Francis."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, once again making eye contact, only then noticing the hand held out to him. He stared at it, then jerked into action and grasped it with his own, giving a few shakes as he sheepishly tried to remember what to say. It wasn't often that he made new acquaintances in the supermarket, after all.

"Arthur. Kirkland," he replied almost robotically, Francis' smile morphing into an amused smirk.

"It was my pleasure, Arthur," he said with twinkling eyes, and for just a small moment, Arthur could've sworn the other had been about to press a kiss to his knuckles, but then the contact was broken.

Francis turned around, taking hold of a fully laden basket, bread and cheese and expensive steak peeking over the top. "See you around," he called over his shoulder, and Arthur could've sworn he saw a wink there, though it could've just been a muscle spasm (Arthur had those sometimes after working in the garden for too long).

Staring after Francis for another few moments, it took the blond some time to recollect himself and head towards check-out, wondering why he felt less tired all of a sudden.

~o~

Arthur came home to the sound of the television playing, two voices loudly chattering over it. His lips quirked up; his daughters were home, safe and sound. After taking off his coat and shoes, Arthur once more picked up the plastic bags with groceries and headed into the living room.

"Evening you two," he said, trying to mask how tired his voice sounded by smiling.

Two heads turned around simultaneously—it had always surprised Arthur how in sync the both of them could get, but he supposed it was just another twin thing.

"Hi daddy!"

"Welcome home, dad."

Arthur half expected Amelia to crawl over the back of the couch to come and hug him, as she often did, but today she didn't seem to be in the mood. With a note of apprehension he shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. "So…I'm making pasta tonight. I hope you're both hungry."

This time, it was Maddie who rose, expression devoid of any emotion. "I'll do the cooking. Here, you can just go relax."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow as she walked towards him, hand outstretched. "Are you sure? It doesn't happen that often anymore that you're both home, and I wouldn't want you to have to work on your day off—" His protests died into sullen mumbling as she gently pried the purchases from his fingers, giving a soft smile.

"It's okay, I like to cook. You just take it easy, okay?"

Arthur put a hand in his neck, ruffling the little hairs at the nape as Madeline walked towards the kitchen. "You're treating me like I'm getting old!" he chuckled, before accidentally making eye contact with Amelia.

She held it for only a second before returning her attention to the TV. "So, how was work today?" the girl quickly asked, as if Arthur's job at the local garden centre was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

Arthur let his hand drop, arm dangling beside him. He could tell she was avoiding the true topic that had to be discussed, which Arthur was both grateful for and a little sad about. Even if it were none of his business, he still had a right to know if his daughter was healthy.

"Work was good, the azaleas are growing like crazy."

"Good, good. Any sales at the supermarket?"

"Nope, not today," Arthur mused. He snorted. "Although I did manage to drop a box of spaghetti, and then someone had to come and help me to…" His voice trailed off when he noticed Amelia wasn't really paying attention. Why should she? He was trying to entertain her with a story of how he met someone at the supermarket. He must truly be getting old. "Anyway, no sales today. But Amelia, are you sure there's nothing else you would like to—"

Amelia simply turned up the volume. "That's nice," she muttered distractedly, indicating that their conversation was finished.

Arthur's stomach churned. An Amelia who didn't want to talk was an unhappy Amelia. This could only mean things hadn't gone all that well. He took a step forward. "Amelia, if anything happened over at the doctor's, know that I—"

" _Dad_."

Arthur sputtered to a stop when she looked him dead in the eye, cheeks a nice pink. "I _don't_ want to talk about it with you. Things went…fine. That's all the info you need."

Arthur blinked several times in rapid succession, before putting up his hands. "All right, all right, I won't ask anymore! If you say things are fine, I believe you." A new wave of relief undid the tight knots in his stomach. Amelia didn't want to talk about it, sure, but not for the reasons Arthur thought. Everything was well.

"I'll just go…finish reading the newspaper, then. Your sister will probably call when dinner's ready, right?"

"Yeah dad, and if she doesn't I'll come and get ya. Have fun reading."

Arthur nodded, more to himself than anyone else. He hesitated one moment longer, but Amelia seemed truly engrossed in the action flick playing on the screen, so he turned around and left her alone. She would come to him if she needed it, he was sure of it. She always came to him if there was something that he could help with. Even if the last time she'd come had been quite some time ago indeed. He would just have to accept that his girls were all grown up now, that his back wasn't what it used to be, and that going grocery shopping could truly be one of the most exciting things to happen in a day.

~o~

Anya Braginskaya came home much later that evening, tired yet satisfied after a long day of hard work. Walking into her apartment felt like being embraced by an old friend, promising rest and comfort for the next twelve hours at least. She set down her bag on a table next to the door, and instantly exchanged her shoes for a pair of comfortable loafers.

Sighing, the woman took a deep breath, scents of flowers and herbs and her favourite soap (camomile) filling her nose. She let her gaze wander lazily about the familiar interior of her cosy apartment, past the soft lavender and yellow coloured walls, over a couch with embroidered blankets hanging over the back (handmade by her older sister), the old TV she had gotten from her grandfather upon moving into her first place away from home. There was an oaken bookcase standing against the wall opposite of a large window, behind which sunflowers stood gazing at the sun on a small porch high above the streets below. Home.

There were a few messages on her answering machine; two from the nurse at work, five from her younger sister. Anya had always much preferred these fixed models to the handheld-ones, although she did gracefully accept the cell phone her older sister had gotten her for her birthday last year, seeing as it could be useful in case of emergency or for work-related business. Still, Anya refused to get rid of her old phone, even if it meant paying two separate phone bills.

A big and fluffy cat came padding towards her, loudly meowing for attention. Anya smiled, kneeling down to give it an affectionate scratch behind its ears.

" _You will not believe what happened to me today, kitty,_ " the woman said fondly, Russian syllables easily rolling off her tongue. She pulled her hair from the knot it had been tied into, the roots sighing in relief after all the stress they had been put through all day long. " _A girl ran away from my office! Such a pity too, she seemed like a sweet and confident young woman._ " Anya lifted the ball of fur into her arms, dancing around as her platinum locks swayed behind her.

" _I hope she will change her mind. I would hate to force her to visit. How would she react if I shackled to the table?_ " She giggled—it was all in jest, of course. Naturally, Anya wouldn't shackle any of her patients to the table. Not even if they had exactly the wright girth of wrists and ankles to do some shackling. No, no, no, she wasn't that kind of doctor. If only Miss Amelia Jones could have trusted her to do her job, she could have shown her that. Alas.

The evening was spent in solitude. Just Anya and her cat, a bowl of homemade soup, and soap opera before bed. As it always had been, and probably would continue to be for quite a few years longer, what with how busy her job was and all. Anya thought her life couldn't get any better than it was right here, right now.

~o~

Later that week, after Amelia had managed to get over most of her self-pity, Maddie took her out shopping on a day off from her summer job. While Amelia worked the local coffee bar near her university every Saturday, Maddie worked from half July to the end of August as a salesgirl in one of the clothing stores at the mall. This meant that, not only did she get a discount on all the clothes, but since she had worked there for several years now, Maddie's boss had also given both her and her twin sister a coupon for their birthdays. Amelia liked Madeline's boss, and not just for the discounts. Maddie had always been a stylish person in Amelia's eyes, and she really did her job well. She deserved it.

Anyway, today was a day off. The two of them had left early by bus (or as early as Amelia's late sleeping and rising habits allowed).

"Anything you really want to buy?" Maddie asked, looking out the window as they passed busy streets and the occasional patch of greenery.

Amelia put up her hand, counting on her fingers. "I need new shorts since I ripped through the last pair, some tops would be nice, dad's been bugging me about getting a new dress for _ages_ since I tore my previous one at prom…"

Maddie chuckled. "Oh yeah, I remember. You got into a fight with someone because they were teasing Kiku about bringing a guy to prom, right?"

Amelia bristled. "I couldn't help punching that smug smirk off of his stupid face! Who cares if Kiku has a boyfriend?! He's one of my best friends, and I'll punch anyone who thinks he's bad for being gay!"

Maddie giggled, nudging the other with her shoulder. "Our hero," she teased, even though she mostly meant it.

Amelia huffed and rolled her eyes, but her smile showed she was pleased. "And I _had_ to punch him again after he said I was half a guy for only having guys as close friends."

Maddie shook her head. "Can you believe there's still people like that?"

"I know, right?!" Amelia loudly exclaimed, someone turning their head towards her with a frown. Amelia ignored them, smile growing into a satisfied grin. "It was all good after Gil told me he'd bet on me winning though. He made a lot of cash out of it, and I got my share."

Maddie grew quiet, leaning onto Amelia's shoulder. "So uh… Gilbert was gone on holiday this week, right?"

Amelia nodded. "Yeah, he went to visit his family back in Germany. He should be back by Monday…" Hooded eyes slowly travelled to the side, leering at her quiet sister. "I asked him to come for a sleepover next weekend, so he can tell us aaaall about how it was. You don't have to work the weekends, right?"

Madeline shook her head without a word, ignoring the fact that Amelia knew her hours perfectly well. The girl's mauve eyes were big and shining, having Amelia quietly cackling to herself. Her sister and her best friend. She had expected something between them to happen for a long time now; maybe it was going to happen this sleepover? As long as it didn't go beyond kissing. Nobody could touch Madeline without Amelia's permission.

The bus arrived a little before lunchtime, the sisters yawning as they got out.

"Kiku asked me to go buy a new game for him. Okay if we do that first? We can get lunch after, and then spent the whole afternoon shopping for clothes."

Madeline nodded. "I wanted to drop by the bookstore as well. You go shopping for games, and I'll meet you at the—"

"McDonald's?" Amelia asked sweetly, batting her eyes when Maddie slapped a hand to her face.

"I was hoping that just this once…"

"Pleaaaaaaaaaaaase?" It was a good thing Amelia had long since perfected her kicked puppy face. No one could resist.

"Okay, fine!" Maddie laughed. "But next time, _promise_ me we'll go for a sandwich or something. We almost always go to McDonald's when we're out together."

"It's a deal!" Amelia tittered, holding out her hand, pinky stretched. Her grin was victorious when Maddie grasped it with her own smallest digit.

The sunny blonde quickly ran off to the game store, wanting to make sure they weren't out of copies by the time she got there. If there was one thing she and Kiku could always agree on, it was video games. Gilbert on the other hand, was more of a partner in crime, the left to her right, her personal Watson. They had been best friends since kindergarten, when Gilbert had tried stealing her lunch and she had kicked him in the knee (he retaliated by biting her finger). After both were sent to the nurse, they had bonded for life. A lot of people thought they were a thing, but their relationship wasn't romantic in the slightest. Even so, they didn't much care what other people thought of them. Amelia wasn't actively looking for a relationship, and as it turned out, Gilbert might be eyeing her sister, who already knew that they had never been involved in _that_ way. Amelia was forever grateful for having such great friends, on top of a lot of acquaintances to hang out with.

"A-ha!"

The young American immediately spotted the game she had come to this store for. After dropping it by the cash register and talking with the guy standing behind it about the newest releases, she went outside, happily tapping away on her phone to tell Kiku she'd got him what he wanted. After slipping the device into her pocket, she looked up, trying to remember the quickest way upstairs, to where the home of her beloved fast-food chain was located. Before Amelia could locate the elevator or escalator however, she saw something else. Something that instantly made her blood run cold, grasp tightening around the bag she held in her right hand.

No. _No_. What the hell was _she_ doing here?! That long, silvery hair, this time hanging loosely over her shoulders and back (it didn't touch the ground as Amelia had initially thought, but it _did_ reach past her pelvis). There was no mistaking. Anya Braginskaya was at the mall. Whether it be a trick of fate, or pure, unadulterated coincidence, Amelia knew she was done for if the other spotted her.

Amelia's gaze snapped about as she tried to locate the nearest exit, neck starting to hurt as it tried to follow the rapid movements of her eyes. _I need to get out I need to get out I need to get out…_ there! She should be able to get to the store to her left without Anya noticing. There she could hide, and plan her escape. As Amelia quickly started walking, she looked back to where she had last seen the woman. Her step faltered when her eyes registered a serious lack of Doctor Braginskaya, before increasing the tempo. If only she could get inside before—

"Well, well, Amelia Jones! What a coincidence meeting you here!"

Amelia froze a second time, heart skipping a beat for several moments. Amelia briefly wondered if she would die right here, right now, in the hall of their local mall. She gulped, before slowly looking over, gaze falling upon the woman standing _right_ in front of her nose. The girl unwillingly jerked back a little; did the other have no grasp of personal space?! Maybe that was why she had become a gynaecologist, because she liked getting all close and personal with people…okay, bad thoughts, baaaaad thoughts.

Amelia weakly blinked up at the pale platinum blonde as the other sent her a gleeful smile, purple eyes closing for a moment (they _were_ purple, closest to violet). She looked a lot less professional with her hair running wild, white coat and high heels exchanged for a striped shirt, jeans dungarees and espadrilles. She looked a lot younger than Amelia had given her credit for, too. Thirty-something, maybe?

"It is such a surprise seeing you here! I hope you have been doing well?"

When those purple eyes opened and sent an imploring look down, taking in Amelia's appearance like Amelia had done to hers before, the girl knew that Anya had neither forgotten nor forgiven her for simply running out in the middle of an examination. While the smile was sweet, her eyes had a certain shine to them that was too bright to be joyous mirth at seeing her here; she was amused more than anything. Evilly amused.

Amelia felt her cheeks heating up, but she refused to repeat her escape now that she had been caught in the act. Even if her dignity had already been shattered, there were still some sharves to scrape together; she could still attempt to patch up her broken pride.

"Y-yeah, I have, actually!" Amelia chirped, voice sounding a little sharp even to her own ears. "So eh…you come here often? I've never…seen you before. In this mall." Well, maybe she had, but had never paid attention to the other, seeing as they were still strangers back then. Oh, how Amelia wished they could go back to just being strangers.

"Good! I was a little worried, you know, after you ran out. And I come here sometimes, not too often."

Ouch. Did she _have_ to be this blunt about it? Surely there had to be a nicer way to say these things. And she didn't have to look that smug either.

"Well, like I said, I just suddenly got my period," Amelia said in a rush, bringing up a hand to nervously play with a lock of hair as she tried her hardest not to be intimidated. Although, if she had been intimidated before, she was more indignant now. "I'm sorry I had to leave so suddenly. It wasn't you, it was me."

"Aw, are you breaking up with me?" Doctor Braginskaya joked, even though the sultry pout that accompanied her jest only helped to further irk Amelia's ire.

"Look, Mrs. Braginskaya—"

"You can call me Anya outside the office. Especially not Mrs., since I have never been married."

"…Right. Anya." It felt strange addressing the other by her first name, especially when the woman perked up expectantly at the mention of it, as if she was truly excited about hearing what Amelia had to say for herself. "I really am sorry for just running out, okay? No hard feelings?" The girl barely stopped herself from adding a "please". She just wanted to be left alone, go enjoy a burger, and then do some more shopping with Maddie.

Anya giggled. "No hard feelings at all! It does not matter that you are one of the shyest girls I have ever had at my office. There is nothing wrong with being prude!"

It was as if by uttering those words, Anya had turned a switch inside Amelia's head. She could feel the blood rising to her ears.

"Excuse me? I'm not prude!"

" _Da_ , you are!" Anya nodded, still giggling, as if Amelia's indignation was the funniest thing to happen to her today. "But like I said, it's okay! Some girls are okay with spreading their legs before anyone, others keep them closed at all times. All are good!"

Amelia's gaze hardened as her frown deepened, and she stood up straighter to appear just a little taller. "But I'm _not_ a prude! I wear bikinis too, and I've kissed some people, and—"

"French kisses?" Anya asked sweetly, placing a hand on her hip.

"E-excuse me?"

"I was simply asking what kind of kisses," Anya said with a shrug, still smiling. "Anyone can give a kiss to the lips. Doesn't prove that you are not prude, Amelia."

Amelia was suddenly very annoyed by the way Anya pronounced her name, doing something strange with the L. "N-no, they weren't French kisses, but does it matter that much?!"

Anya shrugged. "It does not matter to me. I am simply helping you come to the insight that you, Amelia Jones, are a prude. You have never given someone a kiss with tongue, you are a virgin, and you ran away when I tried giving you a physical exam that has never hurt anyone." The smile grew. "But Amelia, I repeat! There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a prude! I only hope that you will not let it stop you from getting your body checked next time. Okay? I have to go now, my lunch break will be over soon. _Do svidanya_!"

And with that she turned around, hair flipping in the air as she walked away, still as bright as before. Amelia on the other hand now quite resembled a boiled lobster, plastic bag crumbled in her fists as she gritted her teeth.

"Prude, prude…I'll show you who's the prude!"


	3. Ch 3: Like a Virgin

Chapter 3: Like a Virgin

Madeline had no idea why her sister was so irritated during the remainder of their visit to the mall. When she tried to ask Amelia about it, no explanation could be pried from those tersely shut lips. And while they did manage to get some shopping done, Amelia barely said a word throughout the whole ordeal. It was puzzling, to say the least.

The moment they got back home around three in the afternoon, Amelia apologised to her sister.

"Sorry Mads, I know you wanted to spend the whole day shopping, but I got a headache. I'm going up to my room now, take a nap. I promise to make it up to you some other time, okay?"

"Why didn't you say so?" Madeline berated her twin. "We could have gone home much earlier if I'd known…"

Amelia shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Tell dad I don't wanna be disturbed when he gets home. Love you Maddie."

Madeline nodded, eyes filled with concern, which Amelia hated to see. Especially since she didn't have a headache at all. No, Amelia had much different plans in her mind than simply sleeping away her bad mood. Plans put there by a certain Russian succubus, or whichever other vile creature she could possibly be.

The girl sprinted up the stairs and made a B-line for her bedroom. As soon as she was inside, she randomly discarded the bags filled with clothes and Kiku's video game, and locked the door behind her. Pulling her shirt over her head, Amelia grumbled to herself under her breath.

"I'm not prude at all, miss I-know-everything-about-sex. As if every woman _likes_ going to the gynaecologist." She stood still in front of the mirror, angry expression reflected back at her. The girl cast her gaze aside as her hand hesitantly crept down over her slightly pudgy stomach, halting at the zipper of her favourite pair of jeans.

Was she really going to masturbate just because some better-than-thou doctor had called her a prude?

Her hand pressed down between her legs, palm first.

Well, apparently she was.

Ignoring the mirror, Amelia went back to the bed. It had been a long time since she'd used this bed for anything other than sleeping, seeing as she was away for college during the year nowadays. She wouldn't be doing this if her father were at home, or if Maddie's room was right next to hers (it wasn't; Amelia had gotten the spacious attic room while her sister opted for the more cramped but snug bedroom they had shared as kids).

Amelia put on some music to help herself relax; what fun was there to masturbating when all you could think about was an annoying woman mocking you for your sexual activities (or lack thereof)? That would be angry masturbating. Like hate-sex, but with your hand.

"Ngh…" Amelia had begun palming herself through her pants, giving languid strokes from the front all the way to the back. She could feel herself slowly heating up at the stimulation; apparently the thought of hate-masturbation wasn't a turnoff.

Taking off the soon too tightly fitting jeans, Amelia lay down on the bed, listening to the soothing lyrics pouring from her CD player. It was a hand-me-down from her mother. One of Amelia's most cherished treasures.

"Hah…" The stroking alone was getting her wet; Amelia could feel her panties becoming moist as she pressed her fingers along the fabric. She hooked her thumb under the rim of the small piece of cloth, pulling it down to her ankles, letting it dangle from one slim foot. A whiff of her own arousal caressed her nose and she felt an urgent thump down there in response.

Amelia used one hand to draw small circles over and around her clitoris, the other playing absentmindedly with blond pubic hairs. When she closed her eyes, she could see Anya's face flashing before them.

 _See? Who is the prude now, huh?_

Taking it one step beyond, Amelia moved her hand a little bit further south, tip of her index finger now pressing against her entrance. She had never actually tried fingering herself, somehow always apprehensive of doing something _that_ intimate. But what was the harm in giving yourself pleasure? Surely other women did it too. Surely no prude girl would ever finger herself.

On that note, she pressed in. A loud gasp, eyes flying open. She could feel…she could feel…

~o~

Amelia hated her entire existence. She felt stupid. Not that she _was_ stupid, of course she wasn't. Even her teachers often told her she was brilliant. It was just that, sometimes even the most brilliant of minds are subjected to, err, bodily urges. And while under the influence of said urges, the brilliant-minded can be persuaded into performing less than brilliant acts.

Which is why Amelia Jones had had to make up an excuse for leaving the house so suddenly, grab a bus, and come back to this dreaded place of torturous terror she had so cowardly fled not even a week ago. Stupid, stupid hormones! If there had been any other hospital closer by she would have gone there instead, but nooooo, this gynaecologist had to be the only one in their region.

Amelia tried to find a more comfortable position to sit in as she waited for her turn, wincing at every little movement. There were tears trying to break through as waves of humiliation wracked her quivering form. She did _not_ want to do this, not in the slightest. Amelia did not want to go in there and face her shame—not only because of what she'd done last time, but what she had managed to somehow do today. Amelia was never going to live this through, she just knew it. Today would forever be etched into her memory as the worst day of her life. And all because she got the stupidest ideas when she was horny.

"Miss Jones? Your turn," the nurse called, barely looking up from her computer.

Amelia gulped. Stood up, slowly walked to the door. Swallowed again, before in one movement taking hold of the doorknob and swinging aside the one barrier separating her from doctor Braginskaya's office.

The moment their eyes locked, Amelia once more confirmed for herself that this had been a Bad Idea. She knew it from the flash of surprise in that light purple gaze, the quirking of rosy lips. Had their previous meeting been amusing to the woman, this one had to be the pinnacle of entertainment.

The fair doctor immediately put aside the documents she had been looking over, beaming up at her young visitor from over the gold-edged rim of her reading glasses. "Well, well, if it isn't Amelia Jones!" she said, parroting her earlier greeting. "I certainly did not expect seeing you back again, and definitely not so soon. Have you changed your mind about the check-up?"

While the woman kept her tone as light-hearted as possible, Amelia could feel the little hairs on her arms and neck rise at the almost condescendingly gentle crooning coming from the source of all her problems.

Argh, this woman was so infuriating! Why couldn't she be like the other gynaecologists? At least they let the nurses take care of questionnaires and long-lived preparations. No, not doctor Anya Braginskaya. She preferred to do all the work herself, not only due to a lack of staff operating the small machinery of her office, but to keep up an air of amicable familiarity and homeliness, to "put her clients at ease". Amelia had been informed by the nurse making up her appointment that the pale woman wanted to treat her patients like real people, individuals, herself functioning as a person with a face and a personality, someone you could talk to and whom you could trust to keep your most intimate secrets.

Right now, Amelia would have preferred getting treatment from a faceless robot, with Amelia being just another anonymous number. At least then she wouldn't have to deal with burning cheeks and being subjected to a smile so sickeningly sweet and above all, outrageously condescending, it made Amelia want to throw up in her own mouth. Just a little, to make a statement, but the urge was present nonetheless.

 _This is all your fault_ , Amelia thought, bitterly.

A perfectly depilated eyebrow was raised, Anya gesturing to a chair. "Why don't you come in? It must be chilly over there, standing in the doorway." Was the woman concerned about her patient's health, or the possibility of a draft threatening her own? Amelia didn't know, couldn't even begin to know. It was frustrating, _she_ was frustrating to deal with, and yet…she somehow evoked a sense of curiosity within Amelia's ever-inquisitive mind.

The girl begrudgingly let go of the doorknob, saying goodbye to a good friend, her safety belt. Had this been a superhero flick, a handprint left behind in the metal would have been proof of Amelia's current distress. Hands balled to nervously twitching fists, legs itching to repeat the previous flight. But this time she wasn't here for just a regular check-up, this time she really needed help.

"No," Amelia spoke, carefully nudging the door shut behind her trembling figure, lest anyone overhear their conversation. "I didn't come for a check-up, I…I think something's wrong."

In the blink of an eye, Doctor Braginskaya's entire demeanour changed. All teasing banter was over and done with as she switched to Professional Mode. Her gaze hardened, body sitting up straighter, hands folded on top of the desk. Any lingering animosity Amelia could have possibly still felt was pushed to the back of her mind as anxiousness took over. She had come here for a reason, a clear and important goal. Her health was at stake here. This could be the real deal.

"Please, have a seat," Anya requested once more, gesturing at the empty chair before her.

Amelia took one look at the piece of furniture and instantly felt her gut contract. The young American shook her head. "I think I'd rather stand."

Anya quirked an eyebrow. "If that is what you prefer. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Amelia balanced on one foot, then the other, before coming to a complete halt. All this jittering was causing unpleasantness to occur downstairs.

"I'm bleeding."

A second eyebrow joined the first, no words leaving the doctor's mouth.

Amelia noticed, and impatiently clacked her tongue. "Not that kind of bleeding! I'm…I'm pretty sure I'm hurt. Down there." Her cheeks heated up, gaze wandering off. Why oh why could she never back down from a challenge once presented to her? She wouldn't be in this mess were it not for her competitive nature.

Anya adjusted her glasses, looking pensive. "Do you have any idea what might have caused the problem?"

Cheeks flushed a darker red. _Yes_. "No. One moment, everything was fine, the next, I'm bleeding. Can you please tell me I'm not losing my uterus or anything?"

Anya finally smiled, a real, reassuring one. "I can assure you, if it was something really serious, you would probably not be standing here and you definitely would not have the strength to calmly convey to me your troubles." She rose, opened a drawer and began shuffling things around in it. "Now then. Let us take a look, _da_?"

Amelia's legs instinctively clenched together. "Can we do this without an examination?"

Anya gave her a look that managed to be both empathic and stern.

"Miss Jones." Amelia shivered under that gaze, the way her name was pronounced. "It is the fastest, easiest, and above all, most precise way to check what is wrong with your body. Sure, we can just talk about where it hurts and speculate, but I cannot give you adequate treatment that way."

Amelia felt her resolve waver, one fear fighting for dominance with another. She either had to spread her legs, or maybe die of…of uterus cancer, or whatever may be the reason of her current problems.

Anya stepped around the desk, espadrilles once again exchanged for the more professional-career-woman high heels. "I promise you this: I will only look for the cause of your bleeding, nothing more, nothing less. Think of it as…oh! Going to the dentist! Only, I am a dentist who deals with female organs. Or are you afraid of the dentist as well?" She tilted her head, eyes wide as she waited for a response.

Amelia shook her head, still trembling. She balled her hands to fists. "Okayfine," she barked out. "Let's just get this over with." She gulped. _I am not a coward. If other people can do it, so can I_.

Anya flashed her most brilliant smile yet, one that lit up the almost unnatural colourisation of her eyes. "Splendid. I am proud of you, Amelia Jones."

After the doctor handed her a paper gown, Amelia noticed she had been gaping a little longer than social standards allowed, and quickly averted her eyes. Her heart was beating in her throat as she disappeared into the small changing room. No turning back now.

Amelia's hands were shaking when she slowly put down her handbag (Captain America themed; it was old and the colours were faded, but Amelia refused to replace it). She swallowed as her hands took hold of her shirt, easily lifting it over her head. Oh, how she wished Anya could just have given her a paper skirt, let her keep on the rest of her clothes. How she wished this could be done without needing to change at all.

After that, Amelia changed at the speed of light, not wanting her hesitation to be mistaken for any more anxiety (even though she was still nervous as all hell). The blonde realised she hadn't done her hair today; it must still be messy from before. There wasn't a mirror for her to check. Still, so far, Anya didn't seem to have noticed, or maybe she had and just didn't care. The woman wasn't a hairdresser, after all.

Amelia closed her eyes, steeling her nerves. _You can do this. You can do this! Just think of it as something like getting an eye exam._ Because that was a little less unnerving than imagining going to the dentist; not that she ever had much trouble with her teeth.

Amelia stepped out again, lips clenched shut, knees wobbly. Still, she didn't back down. Even if this had to be the most nerve-wracking moment in her entire existence, showing fear was always a bad move. She simply had to grit her teeth and persevere.

Anya was already standing over by the bed Amelia had noticed on her first visit, hands covered by disposable gloves, sleeves rolled up so that they couldn't get in the way. She smiled again when Amelia caught her eye, before gesturing at the bed. "Please, lie down."

Amelia wobbled over, and did as told. She couldn't keep her eyes from traveling down, locking miserably with her toes. Not that it was a reassuring sight, seeing as her legs were propped up and open. Who ever invented this torture device? Probably a guy.

"Are you comfortable? I can always adjust your position."

Amelia licked her dry lips. "N-no, I'm fine." _I think._

Anya nodded, before grabbing one of the strange objects lying on the table next to her. "I can explain what these do for you, so you know what to expect," she told Amelia, who nodded in relief. Anya pointed at the thing currently in her hand. "This is a speculum. I use it to open up the vagina, to give me a better look inside. It is lubricated, so it should not hurt upon entrance." She demonstrated how it opened and closed, and Amelia locked onto it with big eyes.

"That's going. Inside me."

Anya nodded again. "It will be hard to see anything without using instruments like these. The most important thing is for you to relax. I repeat: I will not hurt you. I will first check your outer organs, all right?"

Amelia gave a jerk of the head, which Anya interpreted as a "go ahead". Amelia watched on as Anya positioned herself in between the girl's spread knees. It was one of the weirdest experiences she'd ever had. Shutting her eyes wasn't going to help; she'd rather know at all times exactly what the other was doing.

Although, it was hard to keep looking when Anya began her exam, inspecting the exterior of Amelia's reproductive organs first. "There seems to be nothing wrong on the outside," she was mumbling to herself, Amelia letting a little sigh of relief escape. Anya frowned, looked closer. Amelia's already quickened heartbeat accelerated alongside these movements.

"I will have to check inside now, okay?"

That was the only warning the girl got before Anya picked up her beloved device, and began gently inserting it. Amelia's cheeks heated up as the sensation prickled every nerve in her body. This was very different from inserting a tampon. This was VERY WEIRD. And it did hurt, a little, a sort of straining, stretching sensation. Although that could partially just be her nerves working against her. She'd never had _anyone_ insert _anything_ in there. Amelia was about ready to start screaming in indignation, but caught herself last-minute, lips squeezed shut once more. This was all normal, right? All women had to go through this sooner or later. What was it Anya had said again? Right, relax. Don't think about the weird thing currently _oh god it's spreading shit what's happening right now please stop—_

Anya gave a noncommittal hum that caused Amelia's spiralling thought processes to slip to a full stop. "You are still a virgin, right?" she asked, and Amelia didn't dare look down to see if the woman was looking at her.

"Y-yeah? What about it?" the girl asked, voice shaky and high.

Another pause. "I see what the problem is." Anya looked up, the movement catching Amelia's gaze and instantly trapping it. She couldn't have looked away had she wanted to.

"Miss Jones, do not worry. There is nothing wrong with you."

"Nothing…nothing wrong?" Amelia felt both relieved and confused, and she was certain her expression translated those exact sentiments. "Then why was I—"

"Let me give you a little tip," Anya said, voice dropping to conspiring lows. "Next time you masturbate, try to clip your nails. It can be very unpleasant, having them scratch your body."

Amelia stared at the doctor for a long and pregnant moment. Her entire body was glowing. She was pretty sure her cheeks had to be a deep wine red by now. "H-how, how did you—"

Anya shrugged. "Since you are a virgin, there is no one else who could have caused this. And little wounds like these do not 'happen naturally'. It is just a little wound," she reassured upon seeing Amelia's eyes widen, "it will heal naturally." The doctor looked back down, giving Amelia's gaze a chance to escape, lock on something else. She had to, seeing how embarrassed, humiliated she felt right then and there. She had panicked for no good reason at all. This whole ordeal was her own stupid fault. Amelia's legs started to tremble, but she couldn't shut them in their current position, and with the doctor still finishing up her exam. Amelia was pretty sure that not every woman had to go through _this_. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I am sorry."

Amelia blinked. Well, that came as a surprise. "What for?" she asked, voice quivering in shame.

"If this is because of what I said. At the mall."

Amelia's body jolted, instantly giving her away.

Anya offered a strained smile. "Right. I really do apologise. I had no idea you would react so strongly. I really did mean it, that there is nothing wrong with being prude. But it was not my place to tell you." Anya slowly shook her head. "I admit, I was a little…peeved, at having you run from my office, the other day. Maybe I was letting my emotions get the better of me. I should not have worked that out on you. That was very unprofessional of me."

Amelia finally looked down, eyes a frightening blue, eyebrows nearly disappearing behind her bangs. "Um, that's all very nice of you to say and stuff, but can you like, say that when you don't have your head between my legs?" Scratch the previous statement, THIS had to be the weirdest moment of her life.

Anya's eyes shot down, and she gave a hum. "Oh, right. Sorry. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Again." The doctor carefully pulled free the speculum, or whatever it was called. Amelia's body relaxed in relief, but tensed up again when Anya suddenly leant over her.

"I am sorry again. I know I said I would only look for the source of your bleeding earlier, but we are doing this now anyway; do I have permission to finish my examination? It will be over in a minute. I already looked at your pelvic area, I only need to check your breasts and you are free to go. No exams needed for months to come."

At the suggestion, Amelia's nipples automatically hardened, as if commanded to do so by Anya's words. But in the movies, whenever the actors were shirtless, their nipples were hard as well, so Amelia was pretty sure that this was a normal response and would in no way be any more embarrassing than getting an exam just because you'd accidentally scratched yourself while masturbating.

"Okay, sure, why not," the girl allowed weakly, giving a shrug. _It's not like today can get any worse anyway._

Anya carefully lifted back the paper gown, and then gave Amelia what could only be described as a massage. The girl was pretty sure that Anya was checking for lumps or anything of the kind, but it definitely _felt_ like she was giving tender strokes and caresses, moving in circular motions. Amelia let out a little squeak of surprise, to which Anya made gentle shushing noises, promising this wouldn't take long, she was doing amazing. Amelia started counting to ten in her head; ten, and if this wasn't done by then, she would freak out. She felt really uncomfortable, but not just because a strange woman was touching her breasts. It was because, despite herself, her body seemed to react positively to the unfamiliar attention. How much more mortifying could this visit get?!

Luckily for the both of them, Anya was done before Amelia's counting could be finished. She quickly covered her breasts up again, giving another reassuring smile. "You are a perfectly healthy young girl, Amelia. Except for the little scratch wound, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You may go change."

Amelia wanted to sprint to the changing room as fast as possible, but the moment she slung her legs over the side of the bed, she felt like fainting. The blonde closed her eyes and took deep, deliberate breaths to steady herself, before carefully touching the cold tiles with her bare feet. Anya took care of cleaning up as Amelia staggered over to where she'd abandoned her belongings, heartbeat still quaking through her veins.

 _Be still_ , she told herself, her shivering form, both from the cold and something else, the pleasant touches of Anya's fingers still pulsating through her breasts. She walked with spread legs to accommodate the strange loose sensation in her nether regions. She was going to have to give her aunt a stern talking-to later, for ever suggesting she'd visit the gynaecologist. Crazy woman.

Amelia changed as fast as possible, feeling a little more at ease once her body was fully clothed and covered up. At least this was one thing she'd never-ever had to do again. Thus it was with slightly less red cheeks but much more quiet that she reappeared by Anya's desk, the doctor already seated once more.

"Are you feeling better now?" Anya asked sweetly, to which Amelia gave a begrudged nod. However, because Anya Braginskaya was Anya Braginskaya, of course she couldn't help herself.

"Oh, and by the way," she said in a chipper tone, rummaging through a different drawer and pulling out a small leaflet. "You really should clip your nails. I also have other advice—"

"No thanks," Amelia quickly tried cutting her off.

Anya smiled up at her. "But it will only improve your pleasure, and make for a much more comfortable experience! Cutting your nails is one thing, but you should also know to take it easy and not go to fast; a relaxed body gives the best response—"

"I really don't need your help," Amelia said with a laugh, head spinning when Anya pushed several papers with "tips" into her hands, for her to look through at home.

"—and it also helps to set the mood, oh, and wash your hands before and after, I can give you some soap that does not irritate the vagina, and make sure to stimulate different erogenous zones, and—"

"THANK YOU GOODBYE!"

Amelia sped off, away from that unstoppable waterfall of words. Anya may mean well…scratch that, she could just have well have told her all that because she was an evil witch who loved seeing her patients suffer. Either way, Amelia felt like she'd already blushed enough to cover a lifetime, and she really didn't need to sit through all of this. The examination was done, she was a-okay, and she never had to see this woman again, no thank you.

Back in the office, Anya was smiling to herself, finally settling down. She really hadn't meant to embarrass Amelia any further, but these tips really did help, and what was the point in making sure women stayed healthy and happy when they couldn't give themselves a full taste of happiness? Plus, for whatever reason, it was fun to tease Amelia Jones. Intriguing, even. Anya found herself interested by the girl's reactions, this prude little virgin, who had ran away on her first visit, and then came back because of an accident in the bedroom that was caused by her listening to Anya's own words…

Anya folded her hands beneath her chin, staring into her now empty office. Strange. She somehow felt almost sad about seeing the girl go. Her visits certainly brought a bit of life to the woman's monotone existence. Oh well.

"Next patient, please."

~o~

Arthur had just been catching up on the latest episode of Doctor Who when his daughter came home. He craned his neck to peer over the headrest of his favourite armchair (the girls usually preferred the couch, while steering clear of the recliner). After a bit of noise, Amelia came wobbling in, jerking to a halt when she noticed her father, before sending him a quick smile and continuing her way towards the kitchen. She was walking like she'd been riding horseback for too long.

Arthur scraped his throat. "How was your walk?" he asked. Earlier that afternoon, when Arthur had come home from work, he'd only found Madeline present. When asked about Amelia's whereabouts, the girl had shrugged, saying her sister had perhaps forgotten something at the store. Arthur didn't miss the soft frown accentuating those gentle features.

"Yeah, it was nice. I needed some fresh air," Amelia called back. Arthur could hear her popping open the fridge.

"We'll be eating in half an hour," Arthur reminded her sternly, "your sister put in an oven dish."

"Just getting drinks," Amelia reassured him. She came back, legs still awkwardly spread apart, can of Pepsi in one hand. Her smile was a bit strained.

"Amy, you know I don't like it when you bring drinks upstairs," Arthur said with a clack of the tongue, eyes still clinging to the girl's strange stance. He knew he should be asking if anything were wrong. He knew Amelia would deny all accusations on the spot. His girls did that sometimes. Anything to keep his mind at ease.

Amelia waved his concerns off with an off-handed gesture. "I promise to be careful. And if I do spill something, I'll clean it up myself. Don't worry dad, I'm a responsible girl." She turned towards the hallway again, paused, then walked over to Arthur to press a welcome-home kiss to his forehead. Despite him being the parent, she had this ability to make him feel twelve years old. "See you in half an hour, then."

Arthur watched her leave, before slowly refocusing his gaze on the television screen, although he wasn't actually watching the episode anymore. Arthur leant forward, looking at the palms of his half-folded hands. There were a lot more lines on them than there ever used to be. Lately, he couldn't help feeling so _old_. As if his only job now was to watch as his daughters took flight, completely ready to leave the nest. Hell, the only reason they probably came home for summer was that this was cheaper than staying in their dorm room while no classes were going on.

Arthur followed the wrinkled skin on his right hand with his index finger, it trembling at the ticklish sensation. Nothing in any of the parenting books could have prepared him for this feeling of loss. He was both proud at the prowess of his girls—no, not girls. Young _women_. Nevertheless, whenever he thought too hard about it, he couldn't help but grieve the years that could never come back. Little Amelia with her huge grins, several teeth missing. Maddie's first pair of glasses. So many band-aides and bedtime stories and muddy clothes and complaints about the homework assignments of the week. And training bras and prom pictures and "no dad, girls only". They were slipping through his fingers, more and more every day. But as a parent, he could only watch them, wave goodbye at the send-of. Trust that if they fell, they would get right back up again.

Arthur sighed. "Oh, Kate. If only you could see them now."

He turned off the episode; he was no longer watching anyway, and would have to rewind a lot just to catch it all. A quick look at his watch told him he still had twenty minutes. Plenty of time for a quick walk to the corner shop. He'd promised to send his sister-in-law a card while she was on holiday. He'd reminded her that it was usually done the other way around, but she would have none of that.

Arthur threw a jacket over his shoulder, picked up the keys, and walked out the door. Even with the evening settling in, it was still hot outside. Arthur shielded his eyes against the punishing sunlight, looking down the street. It appeared he wasn't the only one outside at this hour; one of the neighbours was walking the dog. She waved when spotting him, and Arthur waved back with his free hand. Then he began walking.

They weren't officially in a drought, but the grass was still turning brown in most front yards. There were only two, three families that had pulled out the sprinklers, their grass shining a deep summer green. There were a couple of daisies peeping in between, a lazy bumblebee buzzing from yellow heart to white petals. The mere sight slowed Arthur's step, made him feel sluggish and overheated. There was no need for the jacket after all.

A jingle announced his entrance to the corner shop. A handful of others were present, most of them picking up a quick meal, one mother giving in to her daughter's demands for ice cream. The cashier looked bored, and his gaze kept flicking back to the clock hanging from the wall above the door. Almost closing time. Then he could get changed, and get cool somewhere.

Arthur walked over to the rack of cards, browsing at his own leisure. Birthdays, births, weddings, get-well-soon and your standard CONGRATULATIONS in rainbow colours and glitters. Some of the bigger ones played Happy Birthday when you opened them. Arthur picked a blank card with lavender flowers on the front, and turned towards the cash register. His sister-in-law hadn't specified what kind of card she'd preferred anyway.

Before the blond could walk over, he noticed a movement from the corner of his eyes. An elegant figure turning their head almost in slow motion, long wavy hair framing his leathery skin and prickly stubbles. Arthur looked over fully, recognising those blue eyes. It was the man from the supermarket!

The other seemed to have recognised him as well, for he smiled, gave a single wave, and began walking over. Arthur straightened up a little more, not wanting to be caught slouching (especially not by his doctor; he already had a bad back according to the woman).

"Hello! Arthur, wasn't it?"

Arthur nodded, grabbing the hand that was held out to him. "And you were…Francis? What a coincidence meeting you twice in one week, after never seeing you anywhere."

Francis chuckled, a musical sound that perfectly fit this lazy summer day. "Some would call it fate. I don't usually come here, but my favourite store downtown is closed. Owners are on holiday."

Arthur made a noise of understanding. They began walking towards the register together, Arthur with his card, Francis with a bouquet of flowers. Arthur didn't ask whom they were for. None of his business.

"You live in the neighbourhood? I honestly don't recall ever seeing you," Arthur said, making small talk. Francis was easy to talk to, definitely not as loud or chatty as some of his colleagues at work.

"Two blocks away. I live in the apartment complex at the edge of town. I don't usually come this way, which is why we must have missed each other. I take it you live around here, then?"

Arthur nodded, watching as the employee scanned his card. He reached into his pocket. His eyes widened. "I seem to have forgotten my wallet…" he mumbled, cursing himself for making such a silly mistake. He offered an apologetic laugh. "Sorry, I guess I won't be buying anything then. I'd lose my head if it weren't attached to my neck!" The cashier was unimpressed.

Francis pulled out some loose dollars, placing them on the counter. "On me, then."

Arthur's gaze snapped over to him. "Oh, really, you don't have to…I'll just come buy one tomorrow."

Francis shook his head. Some locks came loose from his ponytail, curling over his shoulders. "Not a problem at all. It's just one card, right?" His smile became brighter, reaching up to his eyes. There were little spots in the irises that seemed almost pink. "You can pay me back by buying me a drink next time we meet."

Arthur's mouth opened and closed, his bushy eyebrows hiding behind messy bangs. "Honestly, I…"

"I _insist_ ," Francis said warmly, grabbing his shoulder, giving a small squeeze.

Arthur closed his mouth, managed a smile of his own. "All right then. It's a deal. Next one is on me."

The cashier was chewing on invisible gum, watching the display with as much interest as someone witnessing a fly crawling up a window. His shift was done in a couple of minutes anyway; he'd leave the cleaning to someone else.

~o~

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

My apologies for the delay, and I immediately apologise for future delays; I started my summer job this Monday, so I won't have as much time to write the following couple of weeks. And after that university starts up again, which still holds priority, but I'll try to write and upload whenever I can. Be patient with me dears, and have a nice day!


	4. Ch 4: She's Not There

Chapter 4: She's Not There

Amelia sat at her desk, listening to some AC/DC as she painted her nails a bright yellow (after carefully clipping them). While the manicure didn't ask much of her attention—seeing as she had automatised the process long ago—the music didn't really register. She was thinking.

The booklets of Helpful Tips Anya had bestowed upon her were lying on her desk. She had wanted to throw them away right upon entering the house, but something had compelled her not to do so just yet. Even if the visit _had_ been embarrassing to the absolute max, it would be a waste of paper to just throw some carefully constructed informative booklets into the trashcan without sparing them a single glance.

While blowing on her nails to help dry them a little bit faster, Amelia found her eyes constantly being pulled back to those conspicuous squares lying over at the corner of her desk, a funky font drawing her attention, especially since doubled with heavy tints of dark pink, fluorescent yellow and a soothing aquamarine. Ten Tips to Achieve a Happier Ending. Treat Your Body Like a Queen's. How to Stay Healthy & Happy. Amelia briefly wondered if Anya had made use of these too.

The girl could feel her cheeks burn as she placed her hands flat on top of the desk. Bad thoughts, baaaad thoughts. No. She would not use these. Not while feeling so…disconcerted. A sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward, chin resting against her collar.

Amelia reaaaaally felt like talking to someone about her recent experiences. While she usually told her friends everything, she doubted Kiku and Gilbert could be of much help when it came to gynaecologists and the likes. Her dad was out of the picture as well; sometimes she even wondered how he'd ever managed to become a father, what with how squeamish he was with all things closely resembling lady business. Maddie…

She should really go to Maddie. Maddie had already visited the gynaecologist at a younger age to deal with her heavy periods. The only problem was, Maddie knew her sister chickened out last time. And if anything, Amelia did NOT want her twin sister to know the reason for this particular visit. Not that anyone else was allowed to know, but so far her idiotic antics hadn't made her lose her sister's respect just yet, and Amelia was planning on keeping it that way.

Blowing on her nails and frantically waving her hands about, the girl pulled herself free from her leather chair. AC/DC could wait. It was already nearing midnight, but if she waited until morning to address this issue, Amelia knew she'd no longer have the guts to speak up. Tiptoeing through the hallway, she was relieved to see light still streaming through the gap underneath Maddie's door. She knocked, and entered after hearing the soft "come in".

Entering Madeline's room was like stepping through a portal to another world. Whereas Amelia's room was filled with everything red-white-and-blue, big flashy movie posters, all kinds of bric-a-bracs and action figures, Maddie's room was much more, for a lack of a better word, feminine. Soft autumnal colouring, too many embroidered pillows and animal plushies on her bed (Amelia only had one left, a teddy bear she'd gotten from her mother at age seven), it always smelled nicely of flowers and sweet things here. The only thing betraying a more temperamental side was the shelf with hockey trophies and pictures of a small girl, gap-toothed, being lifted up in the air by her teammates. Maddie may be meek as a lamb, but put her out on the hockey field and she became a vicious beast in the blink of an eye. Not that she played much lately, seeing as her university didn't have their own team, and she wasn't home often enough to practise with the team here. A shame, really.

Madeline turned down her music (Billy Talent), and twirled her chair around. "Hey Ames. Anything you needed?"

Amelia plopped down on top of Madeline's bed, picking up one of the stuffed animals and cradling it to her chest. "Just wanted some advice. On uh…on that whole gynaecologist thing."

Madeline nodded slowly, turning the music down even further. "Sure. You can ask me anything."

Amelia chewed on her lower lip. "So uh…I know we didn't talk about it a lot back then, but how did it go for you? No problems or anything?"

Madeline folded her hands in her lap, pulling a pensive face that created a cute little dimple next to her nose. "Not that I can remember…the nurse just had me lie down, checked whatever needed to be checked, and then gave me a prescription for the Pill." She smiled shyly. "I was incredibly nervous, of course."

"Well duh," Amelia giggled, the sound a little strained. "I'd call bullshit if you said you weren't."

Madeline stuck out her tongue. "No, definitely nervous. But it went super smoothly, and the nurse was really kind, so that helped a lot. If I'd have to go again now, I'd probably still be nervous, but I'd know everything would be all right."

Amelia began tying a simple knot with the ears of the bunny she was holding. ("Amy—" "Oh right, sorry. I'll undo it.") Her heart was doing that funky little tango again. "So, you didn't feel weird or anything? While the nurse was examining you, I mean."

Madeline slowly shook her head. "No…I mean, not weirder than I was supposed to feel, I think."

Amelia bit her lip. So Madeline hadn't felt… _that_. That was just her.

Madeline closely studied her sister, head dipping to one side, making some of her loose hair fall into her face. "Ames, why are you asking this? Are you thinking about giving it another try?" She straightened up. "If you'd like me to go with you, I'd be happy to—"

"No," Amelia interrupted her, taking a shaky breath to steady herself. "No. I uh, I already kinda went. This afternoon."

Madeline's eyes widened, then dropped, a warm smile blossoming on her gentle features. She stood up and walked over, crouching down to pull the other into a tight hug. "Oh Amy, I'm so proud of you! You conquered your worst fears! This asks for a celebration—want me to make us some Maple Vodka?"

Amelia gave another tight giggle. "Mads, you know I don't like Maple as much as you do."

Madeline shrugged. "I can make yours a Vodka-Cola. But this has to be celebrated! My sister is the bravest girl on the block."

It was a good thing the girl couldn't see her sister's face, tight-lipped, nostrils flaring. If only she knew…

~o~

Amelia opened the door to reveal a set of ruby reds, almost white hair, and the palest skin she'd ever seen on a living person as of yet.

"Gilbert!" she tittered, only allowing herself a flash of that lopsided grin before slinging her arms around his neck. Even though Gilbert worked out, the strength of her tackle-hug sent them both toppling over in no time. Each body omitted laughter as they lay on the ground in a perfectly dishevelled mess.

"It's so good to see you!" Gilbert ground out, returning the hug as fiercely as he could.

Amelia pushed herself up onto her elbows, not bothering to stand just yet. "Now let me get a good look at you," she laughed, closely studying her friend. Still the same blue veins running beneath the heavy watch on his left wrist, still the same tattoo of a black eagle covering his entire right arm, the same mischievous glint in that bold piercing glare, the same earrings, the same grin.

"No tan?"

"Amelia, you know I never tan," he playfully chastised her. "Now could you get up? I'm not saying you're heavy, but I want to drop off my bag inside."

Amelia snorted, and finally relented. She got up first, swiping the dust off her skirt, before extending a hand to Gilbert and helping him up as well. He slung his tattered duffle bag over one shoulder, and followed her inside, taking off his shoes, gazing around him with a look that said he was glad to be home.

"Dad and Maddie are in the garden. Wanna go say hi first, or go upstairs?"

"Say hello of course!" he barked. "I have to let your family know that they're graced with my presence!"

"Pretty sure they already know. They heard the doorbell too."

They walked down the hallway, through the living room and kitchen, ending up in a middle-sized garden with a small patio (furnished with table and chairs, and occasionally they dragged out the barbeque), a vegetable garden way in the back, and a paperbark maple to cast some shade. Arthur was currently bent over the tomatoes (even though his doctor always told him to watch his back, he wasn't getting any younger), Maddie stretched out on a towel beneath the tree with a book. Good thing she was wearing a breezy summer dress instead of her bikini, or Gilbert would have been treated to the sight of a highly embarrassed sister.

Amelia put both hands around her mouth. "You guys, Gil's here!"

Madeline was up in mere seconds, book clasped shut, eyes wide behind her glasses. "Oh, hello Gil! Had a nice holiday?" Behind her, Arthur was getting up too, albeit much more slowly, carefully putting down his trowel and gardening gloves on the grass beside him.

Gilbert took the time to beam at her, before answering the girl's question. "It was amazing! We went to Frankfurt, a little town near Hamburg—Rosengarten, ever heard of it?—and we spent the last few days in Berlin."

"Sounds really nice," Maddie agreed, Arthur finally joining the conversation.

"Gilbert," he greeted with a nod—Gilbert had long since become a familiar face to him. "I trust your family is well?"

"Oh yeah, couldn't be better! We visited my mother's brother, who organised this _huge_ family dinner, and then we went to my grandparents on my father's side, and in Berlin we stayed with my grandmother on my mother's side. They were all really happy we could come." Gilbert and Ludwig didn't see their family that often, but whenever they did, it was always a big happening.

"Anyway," Amelia interrupted, wanting some time alone with her friend before he became too distracted by her family. "Gil and I are gonna catch up for a bit. We'll be down for lunch!" She grabbed his hand and began pulling him back inside, the albino giving a sheepish wave to her father and sister before disappearing from their sight.

"You _have_ to tell me all about where you've been," Amelia demanded, not stopping the process of dragging the other along until they had safely reached her room.

Gilbert sat down on her bed, bouncing a bit, before pulling out a small album with a dramatic gesture. "I present to you: pictures!"

Amelia grinned. While you could just as easily upload all your photographs onto your laptop nowadays, Gilbert liked taking old-fashioned Kodaks along on long trips, filling them up and then getting the photos printed on paper. Both his room at home and his dorm were covered in pictures and posters, and he always made sure to gather memorials of any kind wherever he went, "lest they forget the good memories".

Amelia sat down next to him, leaning against a shoulder as Gilbert set to explaining each picture; who was on it, where it was taken, on which day and at what time, and any small piece of trivia he could remember of the holiday that went along with it. Amelia listened intently, pointing out fun little details that caught her eye. This was nice, just two friends catching up, not a worry in the world. Until Gilbert ran out of pictures, at least.

"Well then," he said, clasping his hands together after putting the album away again. "What have you been up to while I was gone? Discovered any cool new music? Sat around moping because your awesome friend wasn't around?"

Amelia let out a nervous giggle, stomach twisting. _Oh, you know. Lost my innocence, been unable to think of anything else ever since. The usual_. "Not much," she instead said, shrugging half-heartedly. "You were gone, Maddie's working all week long, Kiku was too busy last week to hang out. It's been pretty boring here." She bumped shoulders with him. "I'm glad you're back, dude."

He slung an arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. "Glad to be back, dudette."

She laughed, pushing his face to the side. "Anyway, pretty sure Kiku said he'd have time to do something today. Just the three of us, you can pick where we go."

His eyes shimmered as he tapped his cheek, contemplating where to go. "What if we meet up at the mall, and see where we'll go from there? I'm up for pretty much anything."

The mall…for some reason that made a little warning bell go off in the back of her mind. Which was ridiculous, because it was just the mall. Amelia shook her head, trying to rid herself of the strange excitement suddenly taking hold of her. "Yeah, 's good. I'll send him a message. Let's go grab a sandwich downstairs before we leave, though."

Gilbert nodded, then puckered his lips. "You sure your sister wouldn't want to come with?" he asked, clearly hoping it came off as nonchalant.

Amelia raised an eyebrow at him. "…I'll ask. Though I'm surprised you prefer her company over mine and Kiku's."

Gilbert's eyes immediately widened, the softest of pinks visible on his pale cheeks. "Hey, you know I didn't mean it like that! It's just that, she didn't seem like she had a lot to do, so maybe she'd like to hang out with us? Unless she would rather read her book, then by all means, let her read it, I don't want to interfere—"

Amelia laughed, typing the message to invite their other friend along. "Gil, I'm just messing with you! Of course Maddie can come, she'll probably appreciate that we thought of her." Especially since her own friends were gone for the time being.

After a quick lunch and confirmations from both Kiku and Maddie that yes, they would like to go to the mall very much, the three of them stepped on the bus to meet the other at the designated place. Gilbert and Madeline talked amicably on the bus—well, first Gilbert talked and Maddie listened, but after some prompting he got her to actively join the conversation. Amelia kept switching her attention from watching the two with a secretive smile to staring out the window, trying to pinpoint that squirming in her gut.

Sure, the mall was the place where she had first met Anya Braginskaya outside her office, and that meeting was the one that had caused her to act so rashly. It was the source of all her troubles, so to speak. But that didn't mean Anya would be there again to torment her. There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing at all. She just had to forget all about the woman, now that the exam was over and she'd never have to visit her again.

When they exited the bus, Kiku could already be spotted walking towards them. Amelia waved at him, shouting from the top of her lungs, despite him already being well on his way. "HEY KEEKS, OVER HERE!"

Gilbert snorted and Madeline rolled her eyes, Kiku hurrying up to get to them before Amelia could draw the attention of every passer-by to their small assembly. "Hello," he said, sounding slightly out of breath, smiling nonetheless. "It is good seeing you again." He paused to fist-bump Gilbert and Amelia, and wave a hand at Madeline; Kiku had never been good with hugging or other more affectionate greetings, and while Amelia and Gilbert liked teasing him, they also respected his boundaries.

"How was your trip to Germany?" Kiku asked conversationally as they began walking towards the entrance of the mall. He said a sincere thanks as Amelia handed him the game she'd bought him last week.

"Oh, it was amazing! First, we went to…"

Amelia only listened with half an ear, already having heard the stories. The weirdness in her gut became even weirder once they walked through the sliding doors, a waft of air-conditioned air hitting them, quite chilly after the stifling heat outside. Without being able to stop it from happening, Amelia found herself unconsciously double-checking their surroundings, frantically looking for a set of purple-hued eyes, the shine of silvery locks, the sound of mirthful giggles. It was as if she expected Anya to be waiting for her, to remind her of exactly what had happened during their previous visit. As if she _knew_.

"Amelia? Everything all right?"

Kiku waved a hand in front of her face, snapping Amelia back to their conversation. She found all three of them staring at her, obviously wondering if maybe she'd gotten a heat strokel.

She forced her laughter to sound natural. "Oh, sorry. Was just zoning out a bit. Didn't get that much sleep last night, you know, because I was excited about today."

They shared a Look, but didn't press her any further. While Gilbert and Kiku continued their conversation, Maddie fell behind for a moment, leaning in to murmur in Amelia's ear. "You sure everything's all right? We can go somewhere else if you'd like." Her expression told Amelia that she hadn't forgotten how during their last visit, Amelia had suddenly gotten too distracted to enjoy an afternoon at the mall. Perhaps Amelia should have told her there and then how Anya Braginskaya had edged her on. That would have been ten times smarter than trying to prove the woman wrong.

Instead, Amelia shook her head, putting on a smile she hoped would reassure her sister. "No, sorry. Just a bit distracted. We came her to have a good time, and a good time we shall have!"

Madeline opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it immediately afterwards. She nodded, slowly. "If you're sure…you know you can tell me if anything's wrong, right?"

Amelia immediately felt guilty. This was her twin sister! She shouldn't be lying to her. Or, well, keeping things from her, which was pretty much lying under a different name. Still, she didn't want Madeline to worry over things that really shouldn't be bothering Amelia in the first place. So what if the mere possibility of encountering the gynaecologist made her nervous as all hell? So what if her last visit to the doctor had gone a little smoother than she was comfortable with? It was summer, a time of no worries, of sun and fun and friendship and all that gooey stuff.

So instead of fessing up, she simply stuck out her tongue and made a funny face, causing the other to giggle helplessly. "I know, sis. And if anything _is_ bothering me, I promise I'll tell you."

Their visit went by without any hiccups. No run-ins with certain women, there was a sale at one of Gilbert's favourite stores, they all had ice cream together and Amelia saved Kiku from falling into the fountain. It was simply a picture-perfect afternoon among friends. Amelia should have only felt relief.

She did not understand the undercurrent of minor disappointment sloshing around in the back of her mind.

~o~

Amelia was brushing her teeth, getting ready to go to bed. A mattress and sleeping bag had been prepared on the floor in her bedroom for Gilbert to sleep on. While Arthur might have protested to a boy and a girl sleeping in the same room when they were a bit younger, he had given up on trying to separate them quite some time ago. After all, Gilbert had proven himself to be a decent young man who never laid a finger on his beloved daughter. He had earned himself a seal of approval.

Amelia slowed her brushing to lean closer to the mirror, trying to figure out whether the red spot beneath her eye was a rash or a smear of crème or something else along those lines. Rubbing a finger over the spot, she took a moment to study herself. Still the same freckles she'd always had. Still the smallest of scars interrupting her eyebrow, right there in the corner. Still the same lips, the same dimples in her cheeks when she spread them into a wide grin. Becoming an adult certainly hadn't changed her appearance.

She once more remembered the touch of that hand. The nerves fluttering in her stomach at the mere possibility of running into that woman. It was ridiculous.

Amelia gurgled with water, then spat. "Stop thinking about it, Amelia," she grumbled to herself. "You're not gonna let your summer be ruined by a woman you might never see again. And you definitely did _not_ get excited over her touching you."

The sound of bare feet slipping down the hallway. Amelia's head shot up, eyes widening when she could see Gilbert's figure in the crack of the door.

"Oh you did NOT just hear that!" the girl squeaked, distress raising her voice several pitching before letting it end into incomprehensible peeping.

"No I definitely didn't hear you talking to yourself just now and I am going away right now," Gilbert stammered out, escaping immediately after. He must have felt equally as embarrassed by this incident as Amelia herself.

Amelia groaned, putting her head in her hands. Okay then. Well. Great. How was she going to explain this? Because she _had_ to come up with some kind of explanation. If she was planning on keeping Gilbert as her best friend, which she was, she couldn't let slip-ups like these be left unaddressed. Amelia quickly cleaned her toothbrush and stomped over to her bedroom, already regretting her decisions. Maybe it wasn't too late to move to Tibet and become a monk. Slamming the door open, Gilbert could be found visibly jumping at her entrance. They stared each other down for a moment, Gilbert's cheeks flaring, Amelia's hands trembling.

Finally, Gilbert let out a deep sigh, as if resigning himself to this fate. He spread his arms and flopped back onto the mattress. "If you've come to kill me, better make it quick. I'm ready to die."

Amelia could feel her mouth twitch up. Idiot. Closing the door behind her, she took a step forward, before sitting cross-legged at the other's feet. "Okay, I'm just gonna tell you what that was about, because I don't want you to get the wrong idea, and I don't want things to get awkward between us."

"And you call what just happened NOT awkward?" Gilbert mumbled. Still, after rubbing his temples, he sat up as well, ready for the confrontation.

Amelia plucked at a loose string on her pyjama bottoms. "So, I didn't really wanna talk about this, because it's all girl stuff, and I know you don't care much about that."

Gilbert cocked his head to the side. "Sure, but that doesn't mean you can't tell me if it's important."

Amelia sent him a cool glare. "I had to go to the gynaecologist to get my female parts checked—"

"OKAY TMI AMY."

Despite her embarrassment, Amelia grinned. Okay, that cat was out of the bag. Commence phase two.

"Yeah, I thought so. But anyway, my gynaecologist is kind of a bitch." Not entirely true. "So I didn't really like the idea of her examining me." That was an understatement. "And that's all you need to know."

Gilbert was chewing his lower lip. She could tell he would have liked to switch topics, but there was still something bothering him. "So then…what you just said—I mean, the thing I didn't hear and will never tell anyone because I haven't heard it…was about your gynaecologist?"

Amelia pulled her legs up to her chest. "No! I mean—yeah? I mean…I don't know." She groaned, burying her face against her knees. "I don't knoooooow. It's probably nothing. I'm just confused because this was a stressful experience. Anyway, it's nothing to worry about, which is part of why I didn't want you knowing."

Gilbert folded his hands. "You didn't want me knowing about the exam, or about you possibly…" Amelia slightly lifted her face, leering at him. _Don't you dare say it_ , was the message in her narrowed eyes. Gilbert gulped. "…You possibly being fat?"

Amelia gasped. "How dare you!" She lunged at him, laughing as he let himself be pinned down. A small struggle ensued, the tension evaporating from the air like snow melting on the first warm day of the year. She should have told him from the start. Guy or girl, Gilbert always knew exactly what to say to lift her spirits.

After the small fight, the two collapsed onto the floor, side by side, bodies still quaking with laughter. They didn't say anything for a moment, but Amelia could feel Gilbert's hand capturing her own, and giving a small squeeze.

 _I'm here to listen if you want to talk about it_.

Her heart contracted painfully. She wasn't even ready to talk to herself about this. Because it was weird, right? Not being able to get your gynaecologist out of your head for even a second. Still, she squeezed back.

 _I know_.

It wasn't even that big a deal. She might even have forgotten about this by the end of the month, whatever this was. Probably. Hopefully.

~o~

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hello there dear reader, let me get straight to the point: I have no idea when I will be able to upload the next chapter. I haven't had time to write for this story in a long while (this chapter was already done, I just needed to spellcheck it, and even that I couldn't find the time or inspiration for). I have classes, work, and other stuff that I need to prioritise. I'm not exactly quitting this story; I do know where I want it to go for example, I just don't know when I'll be able to continue it. I at least wanted to give you guys this chapter, but it'll probably be the last for I don't know how much time to come, so please don't wait up for the next chapter.

To end on a brighter note, I am working on something with a friend which we'll post on a separate blog (my tumblr followers will already know of this), so you have that to look forward to if you enjoy my writing. And if you don't care one single bit about that, that's fine too. :)

Have a lovely day, and I hope you at least enjoyed reading the chapters that I HAVE been able to post.


	5. Ch 5: Lady Marmelade

Chapter 5: Lady Marmalade

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

ANNOUNCEMENT! I will not be continuing this story, sorry. I will upload the two (and a half) chapters I still had lying around for spellchecking, but I haven't written anything for this fic in months so I doubt I'll be continuing it any time soon. Perhaps, in the distant future, but definitely not soon. I hope you guys can at least enjoy these final chapters.

~o~

Weekends were always over too soon. Not that Amelia had to go to work or school that Monday, but she did have to say goodbye to her best friend. They were standing in the doorway, exchanging tight hugs.

"Call me every day, okay? And we have to get together as soon as possible. Summer is boring without you."

"I promise," Gilbert said, giving a final squeeze before pulling back. "Wouldn't want you to feel lonely. There's that new movie coming out in two weeks, but we'll find something to do in the meantime."

"Definitely," Amelia stressed, watching him grab his duffel bag. "And uh, about that other stuff…"

His expression was serious. "My lips are sealed. Trust me."

Amelia nodded feverishly, blinking away her relief. She still had a lot of thinking to do, but at least Gilbert wouldn't push her.

"Too bad Maddie had to leave early for her job, huh?"

Gilbert scratched absentmindedly at his chin, smile lopsided. "Wha—? Yeah, pity…" He leered at her. "Amelia Jones, are you making insinuations about me and your sister?"

She grinned wolfishly. "Not at all! I was simply stating a fact. Now run along, or you'll miss your bus."

He playfully pinched her nose in retaliation before taking a step back, lifting his hand to give her a wave. "I won't talk about your problems if you don't talk about my love life."

"If you can even call it that!" Amelia yelled after his retreating figure, laughing all the while. She snorted when he flashed her a middle finger, before sending an apologetic smile to one of the neighbours. She missed him already.

After Gilbert disappeared out of sight, Amelia closed the door and leant against it, trying to decide what to do with the rest of her day. With Gilbert gone and her father and sister at work, she officially had nothing to do. All of her shopping had been done, no more visits to dentists or other doctors needed this summer, the coupons she'd received for her birthday had all been used up. No new movies had caught her interest, she'd already played the games she wanted to play, no summer homework to be taken care off. She read, sometimes, but didn't feel like it right now. Maybe a visit to the comic book store? A walk in the park? A swim on this hot summer day?

Then she remembered. There was a new coffee shop opening up downtown. While it was more fun to visit such establishments with friends (and in the colder seasons), she supposed she could go check it out on her own this once, go on a scouting mission of sorts. If they served delicious coffee, she could convince Madeline to go grab a drink there in the near future. And walking downtown was always nice.

Seeing as the weather was still sweltering—they had finally made official announcements about the drought—she didn't put on a jacket, but decided to exchange her top and sweatpants for a pair of jeans shorts and a loose t-shirt. Sunglasses on, handbag at the ready, and hair tied back to keep it away from her neck, she began her journey, hoping the day would bring excitement with it.

It wasn't a terribly long walk, but still long enough to consider taking the bus if she wanted to go back some other time. The only problem with public transport was that you had to wait, and that these days it was much too hot to be trapped inside anyways. Amelia thought the walk to be refreshing, although she should have brought a bottle of water along with her. It really was _hot_ , even for someone who loved the sun as much as she did. It made a day at the beach that much more appealing. Maybe next weekend she could try and convince some people to go with her. Get Kiku in swim trunks for possibly the first time in his life.

Amelia found the coffee shop pretty quickly. It was located at one of the main plazas, several bars and bistros surrounding the square. Big banners reading GRAND OPENING were strung up, and Amelia could see people bustling inside through a window. She quickly joined them, air abuzz with the excitement of something new. They didn't get new stuff all that often. It always hit the headlines of the local newspaper whenever it happened. Like the bowling alley last year, or when they were renovating the theatre the year before that. Big news for a reasonably small town.

Amelia pushed her sunglasses up into her hair in order to better squint at the menu hanging on the wall. It was too hot for regular coffee, but maybe a nice frappuccino would do the trick. A large one, please. And some chocolate cake while you're at it.

Purchases in hand, she turned around to go look for a table outside, wanting to enjoy her beverage and sweet snack without dying from heat stroke. Only to almost die from heart attack instead.

It could _not_ be possible. Not after the mall incident. Not after never seeing the woman even once. Was Anya Braginskaya a stalker or something?

The woman had spotted her too, smiling brilliantly. "Amelia! What a pleasant surprise!"

Amelia stood frozen, cup of cold coffee in one hand, paper bag with cake in the other, a plastic smile plastered to her face. Platinum locks, violet eyes, _gentle hands massaging her body._ "Pleasant", she called this.

Anya walked right up to her, being next in line. She was wearing a dress this time, light and breezy. How could anyone be so pale in this weather? Only Gilbert was paler, but he had the excuse of being an albino.

The doctor quickly placed her order (iced tea, extra sugar), before smiling brilliantly down at her unwilling companion. "I trust everything has been going well? I have not seen you back, so that is the only assumption I can make."

Amelia had forgotten how to speak the English language, dumbly blinking up at the other. Was she teasing? She had to be. Still, Anya seemed genuinely pleased at seeing her here.

Anya grabbed her coffee, then quirked an eyebrow at Amelia. She finally found her tongue again.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. You…?" It was an automatic response, but now she realised that Anya's personal life really wasn't any of her business.

Anya seemed to think otherwise. "Oh, I am doing just fine as well, thank you for the interest." They stepped aside to give the other customers more space, Amelia stumbling but catching herself before she could make an embarrassing fall. "Although I must admit, it has been quite boring without you."

Amelia's cheeks flushed. "Boring? What do you mean?"

Anya giggled. "All my other patients are so obedient and dull. Boring. Not to say that boring is bad in my line of work, but you were a nice change of pace, you know?"

No, Amelia didn't know. Though she supposed it was nice that apparently, her existence was amusing to the other.

"Glad I could entertain you," she said dryly, wanting to turn around and leave. However, Anya gingerly touched her sleeve, drawing her attention back. Her smile had fallen, but wasn't completely gone.

"I apologise. I am doing it again, aren't I?"

"Doing what?" Amelia asked, blinking rapidly. She didn't exactly like to be reminded of the last time the doctor had apologised to her.

"Accidentally embarrassing you. I only meant to tease, but sometimes I take it too far." She nodded at Amelia's hand. "I think your coffee might be melting."

Amelia distractedly followed the other's gaze, before eeping and bringing the paper cup to her lips. There was too much foam, and it had begun dripping from one side.

Amelia felt herself jolt when Anya placed a hand at the small of her back, gently guiding her outside. "Come, let us sit down, so our drinks do not go to waste."

Amelia followed, legs feeling stiff and robotic, heart pounding in her throat. Was her gynaecologist really inviting her to have drinks together? Was she really going to sit down at this table, facing the woman she wanted to avoid most of all, so they could sip their coffees and teas before the weather did strange things to their beverages?

Her naked thighs hit a pillow. Apparently she was.

Anya looked almost graceful as she sat down in the other empty chair, the tea placed neatly on the table, one leg swinging over the other without missing a beat. She was once more wearing espadrilles, toe nails not polished, unlike Amelia's (though she mostly wore sneakers, making it harder to notice). Her hair was loose and she wore bracelets around her wrist. Amelia could somehow perfectly picture the other standing on a rocky cliff, flowy dress whipping about her as she held one hand to a broad sun hat. She would be beautiful. If only her personality was a little more elegant.

Anya smiled, noticing the staring, after which Amelia quickly refocused on her coffee and cake. She was nervous, but not too nervous for food and drinks. She only wished she had chosen a more adult t-shirt than her Superman one. She felt like a little girl compared to Anya, even though they were both adults.

"So what brings you here this lovely day?" Anya asked conversationally, sipping her tea with puckered lips.

Amelia had just taken a bite of cake, but remembered her manners and quickly swallowed it before speaking (almost choking in the process). "I just wanted to check out the new coffee shop. You know, because it's new and stuff, and that's always a big deal…" Wow. She was making herself sound truly intelligent, wasn't she?

"That is true. The cons and pros of living in a small town do tend to overlap." While it was obvious Anya was only trying to make small talk, the gynaecologist seemed genuinely interested in what Amelia had to say, ready to keep a conversation going. Amelia wondered why. She was just another patient. Or was it really because she was so amusing to the doctor?

"Yeah. Not much to do, but it's nice and quiet. That's exactly the reason why my parents came to live here." Why was she saying all this? Anya hadn't questioned her on any personal details. She probably didn't even want to know. Besides. Did she truly want to convey this information to someone who made her gut squirm uncomfortably with only a single glance?

"It is also the reason why I set up my office here," Anya agreed. "The closest hospital is only a small one, without their own gynaecologist. I had a full guarantee of getting the most customers in the region if I began working here."

"Still. Must be boring," Amelia said, stirring her coffee, despite it being neither hot nor filled with content that required stirring. Her eyes widened. "Is that why you like me?"

When Anya's gaze snapped over, she immediately realised her mistake.

"Oh I, I didn't mean _like_ , I meant, find interesting, or, not boring at least, I mean—"

"That might be it," Anya interrupted her, expression hard to read (amused again? Mocking? Or was she merely humouring Amelia this time?). "You are like...a breath of fresh air." She chuckled, gesturing at their surroundings. "Which both my office and this town are in desperate need of."

Amelia smiled sheepishly, before quickly finishing her cake in a few huge bites, forgetting to try and act like she wasn't a speedy eater. Huh. Most other people called her erratic behaviour annoying. Wild. "Miss Jones, please tone it down." "Amelia, I can hear you coming from miles away." Embarrassing situations or not, she supposed something good had come of her going to the gynaecologist after all.

Anya shifted her legs, and Amelia immediately found her gaze drawn to the movement, that flashing of pale skin, long limbs a treat for the eyes. Something not so good had come out of it as well. Because in no way was the tightening of her chest at a simple movement or gesture coming from the doctor healthy.

Anya took another sip of tea, humming lazily as she watched a group of children walk by.

Amelia shook her head, trying to keep her mind from wandering into dangerous territory. _Keep it down, Ames. And in your pants. Or as far away from your pants as possible_. She felt ridiculous for feeling like this. She thought she could have learnt to ignore it, had it not been for Anya showing up right here, today of all days. Seeing her again only made her heartbeat accelerate, made a gnawing something in the back of her head demand to be given a name. Which reminded her…

"How come you're not working right now?" Anya looked over. "I-if you don't mind me asking."

Anya shrugged. "Simple. I do not work on Mondays. We are currently understaffed, but I refuse to work myself to death, so the nurses and I have all agreed to close business on Monday." She spun the cup in her hand, watching the liquid inside slosh about. "I am hoping to find someone to help me run the office, so that perhaps they can do the mornings and I can work in the afternoon, or we switch days. But for now, no work on Monday."

In other words, had Amelia come here the next day instead, she would have missed this encounter. She still wasn't quite sure whether to feel irritated or relieved.

Anya finished her tea, Amelia using the moment to take a few messy sips from her own coffee as well. She tried desperately to silence all the thoughts swirling in her mind, even as her eyes clung to a single drop of tea rolling down Anya's chin and neck, disappearing lower. When Anya once again locked eyes with her, it sent a chill down the girl's spine, despite it still being far too hot.

"I am afraid I must be going. I have arranged to meet with my sisters in about fifteen minutes."

Amelia, wanting to show that she wasn't just a blustering girl who ran out of examinations, piped in. "Oh yeah, you told me you were the middle sister of three, right?"

"That is correct," Anya laughed. She only then seemed to notice the spilled tea, pink tongue darting out to lap at her lip. Amelia found herself momentarily mesmerised. "And you had a twin sister, I believe?"

Amelia mechanically nodded her head. There had to be something seriously wrong with her. Why else would she be thinking about how the tea would taste on her own tongue, how Anya's neck would ply beneath her mouth?

Anya rose, checking a rather old-fashioned cell phone. "Well then. It has been very nice meeting you again, Amelia. This time without anything embarrassing happening." She touched the phone to her chin. "Although I really must learn to make it more clear when I am teasing. Oh well, next time I will make sure to try and think before I speak. You have my word."

Next time…? Amelia was quite sure Anya hadn't actually meant it that way, but she found herself clinging to those words, and in a flash she realised that she actually wouldn't mind there being a next time.

Amelia nodded, legs trembling beneath the table. She pushed her hands underneath her thighs to trap them. There was something seriously wrong with her. There had to be. And the only one she could talk to about it right now was Gilbert, seeing as he was the only one who knew. Well, knew as much as she wanted him to know, because she was pretty sure he'd still be surprised if she suddenly started talking about wanting to lick another woman's neck. Which she was pretty sure had only been a weird intrusive thought, not something she _actually_ wanted to do. Not even to Anya's neck, which resembled divine pale marble.

Anya raised a hand at her. "Amelia Jones, best of luck to you. It was nice seeing you relax for once."

 _That's one way of putting it_. Amelia took the hand. "Yeah...nice not having to talk about sex for once." It left her mouth before she could try and stop it. Her eyes widened, but Anya merely laughed.

" _Da_. That it is. Goodbye, Amelia!" And with another wave she was off.

Amelia swallowed harshly, then let her face drop onto the table with a pitiable groan. She was making things hard for herself. She really was. The hand she had used to shake Anya's balled itself to a fist.

~o~

A touch, light as a feather, ghosting over her stomach. Luminescent eyes staring down at her, pupils wide with want, soft pants escaping those slightly parted lips. The hand dipped lower, sliding between her slickened thighs, leaving a trail of heat wherever it went. She could feel herself curl into that tight hotness, wanting more, closer, _now_.

Amelia woke up, covered in a thin layer of sweat. The blankets were trapped between her legs, pushing up against her crotch. Groaning, she quickly kicked them back, lying flat on her back, waiting for that intense feeling to pass.

This was bad. Instead of forgetting, the memories seemed to be slipping into new desires. Ones she had never felt for another person before, not like this.

Amelia covered her eyes with both hands, twitching at each small throbbing pulse travelling through her lower body.

 _Anya Braginskaya, what have you done to me?_

~o~

Arthur checked his phone again. He was at the right address, a few minutes late even. No matter, he'd just wait a little bit longer. It wasn't liked his girls needed him to make dinner for them. They hadn't needed him for that in years.

Francis had sent him a message, inviting him out for drinks, after the wallet-left-at-home incident. At first Arthur had been confused; how did Francis get his number? But then he recalled that back at the store, right before leaving, Francis had simply asked for it and he'd given his number in a summer-dazed induced state. He wasn't usually one to impulsively give his number out to everyone and their mother, but he supposed he had thought it obligatory, seeing as Francis had paid for him. Perhaps that was also the reason he had forgotten all about the exchange.

Arthur lifted his arms above his head, stretching his sore back. Another hard day at work. He was going to be transferred to the administrative department next month, so as not to further strain his poor muscles. At least until his doctor deemed it safe for him to continue physical labour. Arthur didn't really want to be transferred. He liked working among the flowers, liked to chat with Rachel and John, his closest colleagues. He'd never been that much of a people-person, but he'd miss those two.

Arthur checked his phone again. Ten minutes late. Had Francis sent the right address?

"Arthur!"

He looked up, seeing a figure running towards him, waving. The gesture wasn't really necessary and drew a lot of attention, but Arthur found himself smirking at the other's enthusiasm instead of growing annoyed. Perhaps it had something to do with how genuinely happy Francis seemed to be to see him here, or the weather making him dull to his usual social awkwardness. Maybe Francis was just glad that someone else could pay drinks for him for once. Or maybe he as well was affected by the sun.

"Francis," he said with a nod, the moment he deemed Francis close enough to hear him without having to shout.

Francis slowed down, mouth forming a pleasant smile. "It is good to see you. I am sorry for sending you a message out of nowhere, but I figured it was the perfect weather to go out."

Arthur began lifting his hand to shake the other's, but Francis suddenly leant forward to press a light kiss to each cheek. When Francis drew away, Arthur could feel his cheeks burning.

The blond raised his eyebrows. "Ah, I am sorry. I always greet my friends like this, I forgot that not everyone is comfortable with such intimacy."

Arthur shook his head, willing the colouration to disappear. "No, just...you surprised me. You think of me as a friend?"

Francis placed a hand in his neck, eyes twinkling. "I hope so. Us meeting twice in the same week must have been a trick of fate, don't you think? Or at least we can be friendly acquaintances."

Arthur laughed, bobbing his head from side to side. They chose a table outside, in the shade of a lone magnolia tree. "You make friends in strange ways. By helping them clean up the mess they made in the supermarket and paying for them after they've forgotten their wallets at home."

"How else is one supposed to make friends?" Francis chuckled, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Chance meetings often lead to the closest of friendships. I met my ex-wife because we both wanted to grab the same cab, and after a bit of arguing, decided to share it."

Arthur felt his stomach clench. Just once, like the accidental beat of a heart. "Ah, yes I suppose you're right...it was something similar with me and my Kate, she's my...she was my wife."

They were interrupted by the waiter, placed a quick order, and then Francis leant forward to show his interest. "Divorced?" he asked, managing not to sound intrusive, only empathically interested.

Arthur shook his head. "No, she...passed away."

Without having asked for it, Francis suddenly reached out, placed a hand on top of Arthur's, squeezed. "My deepest sympathy and condolences. I shouldn't have asked."

Arthur carefully moved both of his hands to his lap. "No, it's all right. It was only natural of you to assume that, seeing as it happened to you. If that is what you mean by ex-wife of course, I wouldn't want to make any assumptions."

He nodded. "It is. We got divorced five years ago."

Arthur let out a breathy sigh. He had no idea why he was telling all this to a complete stranger. Acquaintance. Possibly friend. It was just so easy to talk to Francis, as if they had known each other for years. Maybe it had something to do with his open body language, asking him to continue his story without demanding explanations.

"Kate left us nine years ago. The girls were only twelve—ah, I have twins."

"It must have been hard on them. And on you, too."

"It was…" He smiled bravely, wishing it wouldn't hurt so much every time he thought about it. Even after all these years. He _had_ learnt to live with it, but there was no denying the feeling of loss. "But let's talk about something less morose. The topic of death really should be something for later dates." His eyes widened. "Not that I mean that this is a date! Just, as a matter of speaking!"

Francis allowed a small smile. "The passing of a loved-one should always be open for discussion, if it helps to talk about it." They paused again when the waiter came back with their drinks, a pint and a glass of red wine; Arthur paid. Francis continued. "By all means, if you ever feel the need to talk, I am all ears. But now, let us toast." He held up his glass, and Arthur quickly took his own in hand. They lightly touched, creating a musical clang. "To new friendships, to those we love, to our daughters."

Each took a sip, Arthur's considerably larger than Francis'. "You have a daughter as well?" he asked, feeling more at ease now that Kate could once again be put at rest. It wasn't that he disliked talking about her, it was that he had grown so used to avoiding the topic that there wasn't much else left to say.

"I do," Francis said, pulling out his wallet, from which he drew a small picture that showed a young girl, dark hair in two wild pigtails, big brown eyes staring adoringly at a spot above the camera, to where Francis or his wife must have been standing. "Michelle. The love of my life."

Arthur's eyes shot up to Francis's face before looking back down at the picture. His expression read not a note of insincerity, only the purest and deepest fatherly love.

"She is currently studying psychology at university, so I don't get to see her that often. She used to come over every weekend, after the divorce, and every other week during summer vacation. Now I should consider myself lucky if she calls."

"I know the feeling," Arthur mumbled, handing the picture back to the doting father. "Amelia and Madeline live at the campus during the year. I went from having two daughters to care for to having two young women who didn't need my help at all." He dragged a hand through his hair. "And now they're adults. Adults! I still find it hard to believe. Every time I hear them talking about how it's legal for them to buy liquor now or that they have begun thinking about what to do after they get their diplomas, I immediately see those tiny babies I held in my arms all those years ago. I could hold them both at once. Now they can hold me up, easily."

Francis was grinning. "Ah, the young fledglings are beginning to leave the nest. A trial every parent must be put through, my friend."

"Don't say that," Arthur groaned miserably. "They're home for summer at the moment, and even now I feel utterly useless. They cook, do the dishes, they wash their own clothes...let me parent for a bit!"

Francis' shoulders shook with laughter. "I remember the first time Michelle wanted to introduce us to her boyfriend. I wanted to tell her she was far too young to even be kissing, but then I remembered that back in my own youth, I had done far worse things at her age. I wisely kept my mouth shut and tried to be as polite as possible to the boy she so desperately wanted us to meet. Although I do have to say that I was secretly relieved when she dumped him after another month or so. She was _so young_."

"Oh dear God, luckily I haven't had to go through _that_ yet," Arthur said, taking another gulp of his drink. "I don't even want to think about what goes on behind my back, but so far neither of them have tried bringing someone home yet. One part of me hopes that day will never come, while another part wishes them all the love in the world. Being a parent is hard work."

"That it is," Francis agreed. They toasted again.

Arthur studied Francis as he finished his pint (he wouldn't want to risk the beer warming up). For someone who was old enough to father a daughter of university-going age, he certainly didn't look half bad. The only crinkles in his skin had been put there by laughter, accentuating his handsome smiles and deep blue eyes. His locks showed not a single grey or white hair, although that might have been an optical illusion (but Arthur doubted he coloured it, the tint was too natural).

Francis caught him staring and smiled, dimples in his cheek. Arthur quickly put down his glass. "Anyway," he said, coughing into his hand, assuring Francis that he only had something in his throat, not a cold or other virus. "Thanks again for covering for me last time. It was really foolish of me to forget my wallet like that."

"I keep telling you, not a problem at all!" Francis said, dismissively waving his hand. "Besides, it gave us an excuse to meet up again."

"That it did," Arthur agreed after a moment's pause. He smiled apologetically, standing. "But now I'll have to go. Wouldn't want to worry the girls."

Francis rose too, even though his drink wasn't finished. As if it was only proper to see a friend off like this. "It was my pleasure. And now that we have each other's number, we'll know where to find one another."

Arthur's head jerked up and down as he patted the lump in his pocket. "Right. Err. See you around, Francis."

"Until we meet again," Francis said, making a small bow to amuse his companion.

Arthur could only awkwardly scratch his cheek, nod his head in agreement, and turn around to leave. Francis was truly the most interesting man he had ever met. And if he had to be honest with himself, he was excited to keep this friendship going.


	6. Ch 6: Pretty Woman

Chapter 6: Pretty Woman

Amelia didn't know why she was doing this. Well, she knew _why_ , but she had no idea how she had come to the conclusion that this was a good idea. It wasn't even a foolproof plan. There were a dozen things that could go wrong with it, and probably for the better.

For example, Anya could simply not show up, meaning that Amelia was hanging around here for no reason at all, making herself look stupid. The woman could have decided that this coffee place wasn't worth her time. Maybe she had a different one she preferred going to. Or Anya could have changed her work schedule out of nowhere, meaning that Amelia would miss her regardless.

It was a one-in-a-million chance that Anya would show up here again after yesterday, at a different hour, just because Amelia was directing all her thoughts at making the other show up. There was no logic behind it all. Only a feeling. A feeling that, maybe, Anya would like to meet her again. And that this would be the perfect time and place for it.

Not that Amelia should want to see Anya. She still thought something was wrong with her every time her gut squeezed together at the mere image of those long legs moving effortlessly beneath the summer's dress or doctor's coat. Whenever she recalled that honeyed voice, pleasantly accented, filled with mirth. Those beautiful eyes. That _hair_. God, she wanted to touch it so badly, thread her fingers through it, make a fist and pull it down as she planted hot kisses to an exposed throat.

Amelia hoped there was no one around that could read minds, because hers was filled with sin. She sat alone at a table, empty cup of coffee sitting innocently between her hands. She had her phone out just to have something to distract her, but so far, it wasn't exactly working. Because instead of chatting with friends or looking up some music to listen to, she was constantly letting her eyes wander about, scanning the passers-by for platinum locks and purple eyes. Instead of thinking about the things she _should_ be thinking about, AKA how to give her sister and best friend a little push or where to go buy a new bikini since she recently found out her current one was pretty worn, all she could think about was an older woman. Her gynaecologist, at that.

It must have been a chemical reaction, or her virginal mind playing tricks on her. She hadn't ever heard a story of a girl lusting after her gynaecologist- although, she had to admit that there _was_ a whole genre dedicated to people falling for their doctors, even though most of them were probably nurses and not patients. Wasn't there a rule against doctors and patients dating?

Heh. Dating. As if they were anywhere close to that. As if this was more than a twenty-one-year-old girl getting the hots for a woman who had briefly touched her breasts. And one other place.

There had to be something wrong with her.

Amelia sighed heavily, burying her face into her hands. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be thinking about this. It was only going to get worse if she began obsessing over it. Amelia should just up and leave right now, never coming back. That would be for the better.

"Amelia?"

 _Oh, goddess of coincidence. Why must you betray me_.

Amelia peered through her fingers, gaze immediately falling upon the face she was both frantically trying to avoid and equally as desperately willing to see. Anya Braginskaya, a surprised smile curling around her lips. She carried a large bag with her, doctor's coat peeking over the rim.

"What a coincidence that we meet here again!"

"Coincidence indeed," Amelia mumbled, before removing her hands and returning the smile, hoping her own didn't betray her nerves. She also hoped that Anya couldn't hear her excitedly fluttering heart. "Yeah, I liked the coffee here, so I figured I'd come back here."

Anya placed her hand on the back of Amelia's chair, leaning over her. Amelia wished she wouldn't come so close. Amelia wished she'd come closer.

"I had the exact same thought. I usually go get a drink somewhere after I finish work for the day, before I go home. And seeing as this new establishment lies exactly on my way home, I figured I had found a new place to stop by."

Was it fate or karma or a curse? Amelia wouldn't know. She only knew that it had to be wrong to hear such news and feel this happy about it.

"So you live nearby?" Amelia asked, trying to sound casual as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Becoming aware of the fact that the gesture might come off as flirtatious, she immediately stopped. But then she realised that flirting was exactly what she wanted to do. Or at least, some part of her wanted it. Some insane part she had never known existed up until a couple of days ago.

"May I?" Anya asked, gesturing at the only other empty chair at the table. Amelia had planned it out, opting for a tabling with only two chairs so that if anyone else wanted to sit down, she could tell them she was waiting for someone. So that Anya had nowhere else to go other than directly opposite of her. So that the warm sunlight fell pleasantly upon her frame, illuminating the pale skin.

If Gilbert knew what she was doing he'd probably want to have a serious talk with her. Good thing he didn't.

" _Da_ , I live in the neighbourhood," Anya elaborated, putting down her bag beside her. "I would have liked not to live so close to the town's centre, but housing prices are too much for a woman living alone."

Alone. Single. Why did that sound like music to her ears?

Amelia nodded, trying not to make it look like she was staring (which she was), nonchalantly playing with the empty cup. "Oh, I know what you mean. Once me and my sister got old enough, we finally realised why my dad always insisted on keeping his own vegetable garden, why we never really went on holidays except for visiting family members, or why we always ate such bland food. Although, the last part was more because our dad can't cook than us not having enough money."

Anya chuckled at that last part, looking over attentively. "Your parents must have had their hands full with everything. But growing your own vegetables is always a good idea, I would do it too if I had more room for it. So your father is a bad cook? Poor you."

Amelia nodded enthusiastically, leaning over the table. "I know! He doesn't understand spices at all, he just cooks all the vegetables to watery pulp, and he can't make eggs for the life of him. Good thing my sister is a goddess in the kitchen, or we would've had to live off of junk food and frozen meals for a big part of your childhood."

A crease formed between Anya's eyebrows as she lightly tilted her head to the side, not understanding. A stray lock fell before her eyes. Amelia wanted to reach out and tuck it behind an ear. But more than anything, she wanted to stop the question she knew would come out of that perfectly shaped mouth, all thin lips an rosy smoothness.

"I am sorry if this sounds intrusive, but your mother…?"

Amelia could feel herself grow just a little smaller, shoulders tensing. She always hated this question. It was bound to pop up in conversation, no way to avoid it. Sometimes she wished she could just hand out pamphlets beforehand, "Don't ask questions about my mother, you'll just make things awkward and make yourself feel like an idiot and then I'll have to tell you you're not and I'm tired of having this exact same conversation over and over again."

"She uh, she's out of the picture." Before Anya could get the wrong idea, she continued, boldly locking eyes, refusing to make herself seem like she needed pity. "My dad's a widower."

No matter how many times she had to talk about it, she still found it hard to actually use the words, always choosing the safer option. As if cancer was that uncommon. As if it was a hex, and if you said it out loud, you'd infect others with the same vile disease. As if she could make the memories less painful by avoiding talking about death and the cause of it.

Anya's expression fell, understanding flashing over her features. "Ah. I am sorry for prying. I should have thought about—"

"Don't," Amelia interrupted her, smile brave, eyes far-off. "Let's just, let's talk about something else, okay? Please."

Anya studied her for a moment, slowly nodded. " _Da_. Let's." She looked at her watch. "But I should probably get my drink now and leave. I still have to go grocery shopping for tonight."

Amelia wondered if her disappointment had been that obvious, because Anya had an oddly owlish look in her eyes when she redirected her attention at her companion. Amelia was just one of her patients, after all. A patient that brought a little bit of excitement to the woman's life. But also one whom had previously shown outright fear of even being in her presence, albeit because of her occupation rather than her own personage.

Anya's fingers drummed onto the tabletop. "I will probably be stopping here more often," she said, managing to sound both offhanded and strangely tense, as if she was testing the waters.

Amelia sat up straighter, hopeful, knowing it showed. She couldn't do nonchalance even if her life depended on it.

Anya looked her straight in the eyes, something like an electric current passing between them. Amelia couldn't have looked away for all the money in the world. She simply sat there, dumbfounded, caught. The paper cup was twisted in her hands.

Anya looked away too late. Too late for it not to have meant anything. Or maybe it was just Amelia's over-active hormone-stimulated mind again.

"We should finish our conversation tomorrow. If you would like. You are easy to talk to."

Breathing felt like hard labour. "I-I would love to," she gasped. A quick breath. "I mean, talking like this really helps. To get over things." Another unmentionable.

Anya smirked, a hint of apprehension lying behind it. As if she was fully aware of what she was doing. What _was_ she doing?

" _Da_. That is exactly what I was going for."

The word finally found Amelia's tongue when Anya rose, bag returning to her arm. She reached out and squeezed Amelia's shoulder. Amicably. Motherly. No, something else, the touch lingering, Amelia's heartbeat reaching new heights.

Encouragement.

After Anya went inside for her drink, Amelia fled the crime scene. Racing against her own pulse, feeling like flying and vomiting at the same time (but hopefully the latter wouldn't actually happen). There was something there. A spark. An understanding. Or was it just the heat? No. Yes. Maybe.

This was getting out of hand. Out of control. She was out of her mind.

But maybe Anya was, too. At least a little. At least enough. Hopefully.

~o~

Arthur blinked stupidly. "How did you know where I worked?"

Francis laughed. "I didn't. This meeting is pure coincidence."

Francis had been texting him these past few days, but they hadn't had the time to meet again in person. Arthur was at work, and he'd be lying if he said that Francis hadn't been the last person he'd expected to see here. Which actually wasn't _that_ strange, seeing as they lived in the same town. Just highly unexpected.

Francis nodded at Arthur's youngest colleague, a student manning the cash register over summer, who could be seen retreating back into the store. "I was originally addressed by your colleague, but when I saw you, I had to come over to say hello."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Even though it is her job to make bouquets?"

"Oh, but I didn't come here for a bouquet," Francis said, leaning down to study a tomato plant. "I want…a shrubbery."

Arthur stared at him. "Really. Because last I remembered, you lived in an apartment. Meaning you most likely don't have a garden."

Francis grinned up at him. "Whoops. Caught me."

They weren't alone in the greenhouse; Rachel was walking down the aisles to make inventory of all blossoming flowers while his other colleague, John, was trying to water all plants by hand because sprinklers were currently forbidden (although it seemed like the drought was almost over, as the weather forecast promised rain next week).

"You come here often?" Arthur asked, taking off his gardening gloves before wiping at his sweaty forehead.

"Sometimes, yes. But I have never been back in the greenhouse before." Francis looked around him. "It is quite beautiful, all this greenery. It must be a nice place to work."

"It is," Arthur said fondly. "Nothing but plants as far as the eye can see. It is the perfect escape of city life. A little paradise, so to speak."

"My apologies. Should I leave?" Francis asked, tone humorous.

Arthur mulled it over, smirking. "No, you should be fine. I am pretty sure the plants have already started accepting your presence. Did you really come back here just to see me?"

Francis folded his hands behind his back. "The truth? Yes. Seeing you brightens my day."

Arthur suddenly found it hard to keep looking at the man. Not too many people had said _that_ about him before. "You have an odd taste in friends," he mumbled. "And you must be blind. I don't exactly have a 'bright' personality."

"Perhaps not," Francis agreed, chuckling when Arthur scowled at him for the easy change of mind. "But you _are_ fun to be around."

Another strange thing to say. Arthur had always thought of himself as boring. Dull. Uninteresting. He liked gardening and old books and Doctor Who, and being left alone. Where was the fun in that?

"Was that all?" Arthur asked. "I should get back to work soon."

"Any flowers you would recommend?" Francis asked. Arthur rolled his eyes, but began walking towards another section of the greenhouse, his companion and customer following close behind.

"What is the occasion?" Arthur asked.

"A dinner. Specifically, one among friends and colleagues."

"Host or guest?"

"Host. I like having flowers in my home when people are coming over. It immediately makes everything seem nicer. I prefer ones with a delicate scent."

Arthur crouched down, cutting off a freesia. "Smell," he ordered, Francis obeying without missing a beat.

"Delicious," Francis said, eyes closed as if he could make the scent linger that way.

Arthur felt his lips quirking. "Any colour you'd prefer?" he asked, moving over to another aisle. "You strike me as someone who likes roses."

"The red ones. They are actually my favourite flowers."

Arthur made a note to remember that, although he didn't really know what for. As he began mentally putting together a bouquet, he continued talking. "I don't recall you telling me what you do for work either."

"I am a chef de cuisine," Francis said, mimicking his every step, never straying too far.

"And still you are throwing a dinner party for your colleagues? I'd think they would be tired of food by now."

Francis snorted. "Tired of food. You make me laugh. No one I know ever gets tired of food. Especially not when cooked by me."

Arthur let Francis smell some more flowers as they continued their conversation. "Careful now. You almost sound like you're bragging."

"Some things deserve to be bragged about," Francis pointed out. "Food is my passion, and I love to show it. Don't you like to cook?"

Arthur remembered last time he'd tried putting together a meal. He would never look at lasagne the same way again. "Of course. Who doesn't?" It wasn't really something to be lying about. But for whatever reason, he suddenly felt ashamed of his cooking skills, or lack thereof. Maybe because he wanted to show Francis that they had something in common. Food had the ability to bring people together, after all.

Indeed, Francis' eyes lit up. "You take the words right out of my mouth, _mon ami_." He looked away for a second, before his expression became apologetic. "I would have invited you over for dinner if I had more room at my table. I am pretty sure my colleagues wouldn't mind an extra guest…"

Arthur, who had been thinking about which flowers he could best finish the bouquet with, looked over distractedly. "Oh, doesn't matter, there will be plenty of other opportunities for us to eat together…you could come to my place, for example. This weather is actually perfect to BBQ in. No rain, no—"

Arthur came back to this world when Francis placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you inviting me over?" he asked, and he looked too enthusiastic to say no to.

Arthur didn't know why he did it. He shouldn't have mentioned it to begin with. He should have confessed that his daughters did most of the cooking at home, that all he could do was put together sandwiches and heat up already prepared dishes.

"Oh yes, I had just been thinking about throwing a BBQ, this weekend to be exact! By all means, come over."

Francis smiled brilliantly. "I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Arthur. For the flower advice as well as the invitation."

Arthur was blinking stupidly. He shouldn't have let himself get distracted during the conversation. Sometimes he really couldn't keep his mouth shut. He thought he'd grown out of that side of him, that youthful rashness, but apparently he hadn't. And now he was throwing a BBQ in his garden. This weekend. Without inviting anyone, or preparing, or buying meat and other ingredients, or learning how to cook, for that matter.

As in a daze, Arthur walked Francis back to the store, telling young Iris to put together a bouquet of red roses with white and pink freesia, a couple of green branches enveloping the whole. Francis continued talking to him, but he wasn't really listening anymore. He did look when Francis said goodbye, and he had to admit to himself that red roses and Francis went together like sun and summer.

After work that day he went straight home, feeling a little panicked. That was how his girls found him, pacing through the kitchen, looking through his contacts while trying to make a list of everything that needed to be done before the weekend.

"Dad? What are you doing?" Amelia asked, Madeline moving to the fridge to get the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

"Organising a BBQ," Arthur said absentmindedly, punching in the number of his sister-in-law.

"You. Are organising a BBQ." Madeline was truly the master of the deadpan delivery when she put her mind to it.

When he nodded, Amelia came to stand before him, her jaw flapping stupidly. "You're kidding, right?"

Holding the phone to his ear, he sent her a cool glare. "No, I am not. And now please, if you care about your father, go invite everyone you can, friends, family, classmates, anyone, and help me with this list." He added in a smaller voice, "I'll need it." Then, in a louder voice. "Ah, good evening, I was just calling to inform you that…"

Amelia and Madeline looked at each other, knowing they were thinking the same thing. Must be a heatstroke.

After hearing their father out about the reasons why he had gotten this ludicrous idea, they realised it was far worse. Their father had a new friend and was trying to prove that he was less of a mess than he actually was. For which he would indeed need all the help he could possibly get.

Oh boy.

~o~

"So your full name would be Anastasia then?"

Anya squinted, slightly tilting her head to the side. " _Chto_?"

"You know," Amelia insisted, impatiently waving a hand. "Like in the Don Bluth movie? Her nickname was Anya."

The light-haired woman tilted her head to the other side, considering this for a moment, before letting out a noise of understanding, followed by a snort. "Ah, _nyet_. Anya is not a diminutive for Anastasia. Movie is wrong. Besides…" She playfully pinched a lock of golden hair between thumb and index finger, making Amelia's heart skip a vital beat. Then Amelia realised the other was only removing a crumb of cake that had found its way into her hair, which didn't make the gesture any less nerve-wracking. "Why would I use a nickname in the office? That would be highly unprofessional."

"Ah…yeah, I guess so," Amelia mumbled, freckled cheeks heating.

They had been going at it like this for little over a week. Meeting up after Anya's work at the coffee shop, making idle chitchat. They talked about their favourite drinks, the weather, Anya's pet cat, Amelia's studies at university (she was an American Studies major).

Just idle chitchat, neither commenting on the actual reason they were doing this. Or at least, Amelia was. Because she had found it to be quite hard to figure out what exactly her companion was thinking at all times. Which was only made more clear due to the contrast of their personalities; Amelia could be read like an open book. In that way it was strange that Anya had said nothing about Amelia's obvious interest. Infatuation. Whatever it should be called. Because it was there, and Amelia couldn't go on denying it. Whether she had gone crazy or if this was perfectly normal, not a single day had passed since that one fateful meeting that she didn't think about Anya Braginskaya.

And then this week. This week, which had been both heaven and hell, a buy one get one for free kind of deal. How she wanted nothing more than to cross the distance whenever Anya looked at her. How every little touch set her body on fire, even if it was just to remove a crumb from her hair or an accidental brush of their knees (which only underlined how close they were sitting together). The dreams. Amelia tried not to think about the dreams in the waking world, hoping they would lessen if they weren't paid any attention to. (They didn't).

She was hopeless. Both mind and body in constant danger of overheating. Had never felt this way before, not about anyone. And it was all Anya's fault. Or at least, most of it. The part where Amelia didn't go out of her way to spend more time together with the woman. Like what she was about to ask her, crazy as it may sound.

Amelia was folding her napkin into a little boat. "Say…I told you how my dad is the worst cook ever, right?"

"I remember. Poor vegetables." Anya was untying her hair, letting it flow over her covered shoulders. Amelia wished she could be the one to uncover them. That thought immediately sent red to her face, but she hoped she could play it off as nervousness over what she was about to ask.

"So uh, apparently he's made this new friend, and for whatever reason, he told the guy that he can actually cook. And then he immediately makes it worse by saying he's organising a BBQ. So, yeah, BBQ at our place, this weekend."

Anya was laughing. "Ah, so that is where you get your rashness from!"

Amelia frowned, glaring up at the other. "I do not!"

Anya cocked an eyebrow. Her mind was all made up.

Amelia impatiently clacked her tongue, trying to flatten the paper, swiping a little too furiously. "Anyway. Since you can't call it a proper BBQ without any guests, dad told us to invite everyone we know. There's family coming, friends, colleagues…it's gonna be a big deal. Which will only make it worse if he burns everything, but I think I can get people to volunteer to distract him so that actual cooks can take care of the cooking."

Anya nodded. "A wise plan. I almost pity your father. Has he never tried a cookbook?"

"He has, but even then he still manages to mess things up." She swallowed, trying to get the boat to stand, annoyed that it was constantly falling over. At least she had something other to look at than into those ridiculously beautiful inquisitive eyes. "But, now the question. Do you uh…have anything to do this weekend? Sunday afternoon, to be precise?"

Anya placed a finger at her chin, tapping pensively. "My sisters are coming over Saturday, and I had some cleaning to do, but other than that…" The sentence trailed off as it hit her. She looked over in surprise, Amelia stubbornly keeping her gaze locked with the paper boat, even though the movements registered in the corner of her eye.

"Are you inviting me over for a BBQ with your friends and family?" She sounded so dumbfounded.

Amelia was chewing on the inside of her cheeks. She forced herself to look up, feeling like she owed that to the other, immediately regretting it. Anya looked almost cute with that perplexed look in her eyes. It should be forbidden to look this cute when you were over thirty. Which she was. Probably. Amelia hadn't asked. It wasn't something you went about asking, not when you were just coffee-meeting acquaintances, when you were doctor and patient. When you were trying to play it off cool, not show how much you were dying for a kiss. More than a kiss. Scandalous thoughts.

"I mean, you don't have to come if you don't want to," Amelia forced out, even though every part of her was screaming that she should make it so that showing up was obligatory. Not that she was actually helping her case. Sure, she'd have a new way of seeing Anya, spending time with her. But there was absolutely no scenario involving the BBQ in which she would be able to kiss or even touch Anya the way she wanted to (and boy, did she want to). "I just thought it would be nice. The more people the more fun, and—"

"Do you want me to come?" Anya cut her off. Her eyes had that unreadable something again. There was no way of knowing what she _wanted_ Amelia to say.

She slowly nodded, ears and neck glowing, following the example of her cheeks. "Yeah. I'd like that." It was almost like a confession. Came so close to it. But still, she wasn't ready to say it out loud. Because it would break the illusion. It would turn Anya away. Now that, she was sure of.

Anya nodded as well, mouth forming a thin line. Maybe she was just as uncertain about this as Amelia was. Maybe she too found it difficult to dance the thin line between what was allowed and what would be taking it too far. Maybe, just maybe, Anya wanted it too. Wanted her.

 _You're reading too much into this_.

But was she? Was she really? Wasn't her heart allowed to make a summersault when Anya smiled at her, saying that yes, she would be happy to come?


	7. Ch 7: Red Red Wine

Chapter 7: Red Red Wine

The sweltering heat was finally accompanied by a gentle breeze, promising the arrival of rain in the next couple of days. It was a perfect day to be spent at the beach, splashing around in the salty ocean, getting a tan, building sandcastles and simply relaxing. Amelia would have loved to be at the beach right now.

"One more hour, the guests are coming in one hour…"

Oh, she would have given everything for the chance to escape the house today. Or more precisely, her father, who was currently running around like a headless chicken.

"Dad, slow down, you're gonna give yourself a stroke or something," Amelia sighed, trying for the umpteenth time to get her father to sit down. "Everything will be fine. Maddie is taking care of the food, so the house probably won't be burnt down today."

Arthur sighed as she pushed him into a chair. They had dragged out the kitchen table and all chairs they owned to provide seating for their guests. "What was I thinking, organising a party out of nowhere…"

"Yeah, what _were_ you thinking?" Amelia chuckled, sitting down beside him. She took a sip of homemade lemonade, smacking her lips in satisfaction. "I mean, sure, party, but why one that involved cooking and so many people?"

Arthur ruffled his hair. "A moment of weakness?" He grimaced at his daughter. "Next time I get crazy ideas like these, please just shoot me."

"I thought you were against guns?" Amelia reminded him.

Madeline emerged from the kitchen, joining the other two. "Did anyone say something about guns?"

"Dad has just given us permission to use violence against him if he ever tries to cook again."

"Now you're generalising," Arthur pointed out, smirking. He closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly looking old and tired (at least, from the girls' point of view). "I haven't tried to impress someone since I tried to flirt with your mother."

Amelia and Madeline exchanged a look. It was weird to hear Arthur mention their mother so casually, but they decided not to push him on it. Instead, Madeline asked, "Is this new friend of yours a good cook or something?"

"He's the head chef at a restaurant. Saying he can cook is probably an understatement."

Amelia huffed. "So what? It's not because he's so good at it that you have to be too. And if he thinks he's better than you for that, then that's his problem."

"He never said anything like that," Arthur said, immediately jumping to Francis' defence. He sighed when seeing the cool glares both his daughters sent him. "Yes, I know. I was being rash and stupid. But it's too late to call the whole thing off now, so we'd better get ready to play the hosts."

"And you'll tell him that you actually can't cook at all?" Maddie. "That even sandwiches are in danger when you're nearby?"

"You're exaggerating."

"Only a little, dad," Amelia piped in.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, okay, fine! I'll confess." Right then, the doorbell rang. All three jumped ever so slightly.

"Well, there's the first guest," Amelia said, pushing herself up. She had taken up the position of door-opener and coat-taker (not that many people would be wearing coats today). "Those who are about to die salute you. Let's get this party started."

~o~

 _Where is she_?

The party was already in full swing. Friends, family and a couple of colleagues had gathered to marvel at Maddie's cooking skills, most of them coming back for seconds, all of them drowning Amelia's sister in compliments. Amelia thought she knew who this Francis was, as he was the only man she'd never seen before. He seemed nice. Charming, brought a nice bottle of champagne for the host and a box of chocolates for the twins, had begun endlessly teasing her father when he confessed that he had the cooking skills of a pebble. Amelia supposed she liked him, but he wasn't really who she wanted to see most right now. Amelia was too distracted now to be entertaining guests or making sure that her father made friends with the right people. He was an adult after all, could take care of himself.

Amelia was an adult herself. And so was _she_. She still hadn't asked Anya how old she actually was. Because then Anya would want to know why she was asking, and then the unspoken would have to come to the surface.

After making the rounds, Amelia ended up sticking to the dim shadows of their lush hedges, a cold drink cradled in her hands. She watched as Medline chatted with her university roommate, something the other said making her laugh so hard she got the hiccups. Amelia looked at her father, in a heated discussion with some of his colleagues from work on how to best deal with weeds, the new friend he was throwing this party for watching on with obvious amusement in his fond gaze. Gilbert was complaining to some of Amelia's cousins about how easily he obtained sunburn, which Amelia could tell even from this distance, because he lifted up his shirt to point at a line on his lower stomach indicating the parts of his body where the sun had yet to reach. Amelia rolled her eyes at the reactions of his admirers, their jaws nearly going slack as they ogled the exposed skin. She should tell them that Gilbert was already more or less taken, but the boy could take care of himself just fine.

Closing her eyes, Amelia could feel the gentle summer breeze caress her cheeks. It really was a nice day. And so far, the party was going well. She should stop obsessing over a woman who might not even show up. There were better things to do than chase after the memory of a touch, a gaze, a burning desire that was purely physical, really. Biological, animalistic. Something she could control if she simply put in a little effort.

Amelia smiled, eyes slipping open once again. In all honesty, it was for the better that Anya didn't show up. Maybe now, Amelia would finally be able to move on.

Another quick scan of the garden made her heart skip a beat. _How_?! When on earth did she?! Perhaps the woman was a witch after all.

Amelia quickly ducked out of sight when Anya turned in her direction. She was probably looking for her. Well duh, of course she was. Amelia was the one who invited her. Was also the only one Anya knew here. Really, it was Amelia's obligation to make sure that her more-than-a-gynaecologist had a good time. If only she could get her heart to slow down, could get her damn legs to move.

"Move over."

Amelia nearly jumped, whirling around to find Gilbert crouching beside her. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"What does it look like?" Gilbert shot back, agitated. "Exactly what you are doing, hiding. Which does beg the question: what are _you_ hiding from?"

"You go first," Amelia mumbled, chancing a quick glance around the table to check on Anya's whereabouts.

Gilbert pulled a face that screamed do-I-have-to? "I was joking around with your cousins, but suddenly they got a little too interested. No idea why."

Amelia groaned. "Oh my God, is this how you seduced my sister? By being as obliviously flirtatious as possible?"

The redness in Gilbert's face was no longer solely caused by the sun. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Upon seeing the other's quirked brow, he quickly continued, "But anyway, your turn, Ames."

Amelia bit on her lower lip, paper cup almost crushed between her fingers before she remembered that there was still some liquid inside for her to drink. "Have you ever done something stupid, like, something that you really really _really_ regret?"

"All the time," Gilbert replied, nodding solemnly. "Go on."

Amelia let out a nervous giggle. She took hold of a lock of blonde hair and began twirling it around a finger, before realising how that looked and quickly ceasing the action.

"I uh, I kinda invited someone to the party I probably shouldn't have."

"Really?" Gilbert asked, eyebrows rising. "Who?"

Amelia breathed in deeply. "You remember that thing we talked about, that thing I told you to forget and that if you'd ever tell anyone else I'd have to kill you?"

Her friend began nodding before his eyes widened. " _No_."

Amelia grew pink. "…Yeah."

"You didn't."

She covered her eyes. "I did. And now I'm either going to have to avoid her all evening or move to Norway or someplace."

"Wait—you saw her?"

" _Stop it_!" Amelia growled when the other began searching for a foreign face.

"What does she look like?" he asked, not to be deterred when she caught his wrist in a crushing grip.

Amelia ground her teeth. The air escaping her mouth formed an angry hiss. "Pale. Hair, skin, everything. And…she has really special eyes."

"I think I found her," Gilbert said after a little while, before he let out a soft wolf whistle. "Jesus Amy, you sure do know how to pick 'em! Damn, if I was a girl I'd definitely go gay for her too—OW!"

Amelia yanked him back down, eyes flashing thunder and lightning. "Not. Another. Word."

He quickly held up his hands, palms turned towards her, a sign of surrender. "Okay, okay! Geesh. I was just saying you have good taste. Learn to take a compliment. Oh, uh, and you should probably know that she might be coming this way right now."

Amelia could feel her stomach exit her body. " _WHAT?_ "

His grin was wolfish. "She sort of looked over when I whistled. Whoops. Anyway, now you get to talk to her! And don't worry, I'll stay close, so you can signal me if you need an escape or distraction or anything."

"You are the absolute worst best friend!" Amelia yelped, trying to stop him from leaving, but he was too fast for her. Amelia let out a sad little whine, before emptying the remainder of her cup in one go. She breathed in shakily when the sunlight suddenly got obscured, before looking up. Anya was smiling down at her, frame of her face bathing in a warm late-afternoon glow, giving her an angelic air. Amelia swore to her own future grave that this woman was pure magic.

"There you are! I was starting to fear that I had come to the wrong party."

Amelia let out a nervous laugh before rising, coming to stand face-to-face with her guest. She was ever so glad they had a table in between their bodies.

"Yeah, sorry. I was answering the door earlier but now I was taking a break. I didn't see you come in."

"The Japanese boy let me in. A friend of yours."

Amelia nodded, suddenly wishing she hadn't finished her drink, craving for something to occupy her nervously twitching hands. Instead, she placed them on her hips, trying for a more confident stance (and was it just her imagination or did Anya's eyes briefly dip down?). "Anyway, have you gotten anything to eat yet? A drink? Uh, sitting? There's still some chairs in the back…"

Anya laughed, a laugh that had her tilting her head back, porcelain neck exposed. Even though she was almost as pale as Gilbert, Anya seemed to be having a better time at keeping herself from burning to a crisp.

Speaking of Gilbert, Amelia caught him looking at them from across the yard. He flashed two thumbs-up. She swiftly dragged a finger across her throat before Anya looked back down.

"I am fine, thank you. I ate earlier, which I probably shouldn't have done since this is a BBQ, now that I think about it." She smiled apologetically.

So. Even Anya Braginskaya could feel a sense of social awkwardness. So she wasn't perfect. This bit of information came both as a relief and another problem to add to the pile. Because it made Anya more down-to-earth, more human. Ergo, more within reach. Ergo, more desirable. Why was it that Amelia couldn't think about Anya without immediately letting her mind wander into dangerous territory? Why oh why did every smile and gesture and sound leave her craving for more?

Anya was now looking at the grill. "Your twin sister, I suppose. The resemblance is truly amazing."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This is as far as I got with writing. I hope you enjoyed, and sorry for not continuing this fic.


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